A Different Kind of Celebration
by theAkuRokuFaNaTiC
Summary: Kurt isn't quite sure where he really belongs.  He left McKinley, and they won Regionals.  He joined Dalton, and they lost. It isn't until an emergency strikes during a snowstorm that he truly considers where he's meant to be, if anywhere.  Klaine, Niff.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N.: Okay, I've recently become addicted to the pairing 'Niff.' And, I must say, I am officially in love with Curt Mega. But yeah, I have, as everyone else, mixed the beautiful Klaine and the new and lovely Niff. I, of course, own nothing!**

Alright, they just lost. The prestigious Warblers lost to the ragtag team of New Directions. How was it, Kurt wondered, that the moment he joined the Warblers, they were killed. Similarly, the moment he left New Directions, they _killed_ the competition.

Sometimes, the countertenor wondered, where did he truly belong, if anywhere.

Still, Blaine invited him to the "We Tried Our Best" party at Wes' house; and, being a new couple, they _had_ to arrive together.

Even if he didn't want to. And even if it was the snowing like Christmas in the middle of March. Because it's Ohio; because Pavarotti's grave can't be undisturbed for even _one_ week.

The Montgomery household which, if possible, was even larger than the Anderson mansion, also seemed to be much more imposing.

Wes, David, Thad, Nick, Jeff, and Trent all sat in the large entertainment room, delighting themselves in the dinner Mrs. Montgomery had prepared. A homemade pizza, a large salad (for those who like to watch their figures), a platter of french fries, and, of course, fizzy soda, sat on a large table.

"I loved your duet!" Trent exclaimed the moment Kurt sat down beside his boyfriend. The countertenor nodded as a silent thanks and looked to Blaine.

"Thanks, Trent," Blaine responded politely, much like he always did.

After a few more minutes of watching re-runs of American Idol, David turned off the television. "Alright, we may have lost, but I think we _all_ know two people who won a little something more," he grinned. "Nick, Jeff, what do you have to say to this?"

Blaine glanced over with a curious expression written all over his face. The blonde Warbler smiled sheepishly and stood up.

"It's taken a while, but I finally managed to convince Nick Duval into a date," he announced, looking quite proud of himself. The brunette beside him hid his face in slight embarrassment.

Ironically, Kurt had thought that David was referring to Blaine and himself. Not that he _wanted_ to make a public example of his relationship, but surely _something_ appeared different between the two. They probably looked at each other more, laughed at their significant other's corny jokes, even occasionally scooted closer to one another while they were sitting on a couch.

Or, perhaps, nothing had really changed at all.

Nick looked ready to burst into laughter. "We're kidding! Sorry, Blaine!" The Warblers burst into a a throng of clapping and congratulations.

Now the curly-haired singer was just confused. "Wait, so you're _not_ going out?"

Jeff shook his head. "Not one dinner."

That was the funny thing about Jeff and Nick, or as Wes and David preferred to affectionately call them, Niff - they could pretend that they were in a relationship and not feel awkward around the other. They sat so close to each other at Warbler meetings, and even _now_ Nick was practically _sitting_ on Jeff's lap!

Still, Kurt figured, there was some admiration _somewhere_.

David flipped the television back on as Wes retreated to the kitchen. His parents were out for the night, allowing the Warblers this supposed-to-be victory celebration. Instead, it had just turned out to be a full-on pity party.

When Simon began one of his many criticizing speeches, Kurt glanced over at Blaine. The two met eyes and Blaine placed a kiss to the top of the countertenor's head.

"Wow, this is so sweet we may not even need dessert," Wes teased, walking in with a giant cake. "Ignore the misleading frosting on the top and please enjoy." No one dared to acknowledge the "Congratulations!" written in red frosting.

David picked up a knife and began cutting large pieces of cake. After placing them on signature Warblers paper plates, he handed them to Wes to begin passing them out. Trent was the first to grab the largest piece of cake, then Thad.

Kurt, to watch his figure, naturally, refused a piece; but Blaine, being the wonderful boyfriend that he was, split his piece in half and scooped a bite into Kurt's mouth. For once, the countertenor did not deny something so obviously fattening as a bite of cake - because Blaine gave it to him.

Nick and Jeff each took a gratuitous slice. Wes passed a piece to David and then set one aside for himself. Blaine excused himself to reach into his bag and pulled out a large bottle of sparkling grape juice. He went to the kitchen and reached into one of the cupboards and pulled out a set of wine glasses. After pouring each Warbler a slight amount, he raised his glass.

"While this may be a bit too early for a pep talk, I would like to raise my glass. To the Warblers."

"To the Warblers!" everyone repeated.

The group began to dig into their cakes, Kurt doing his best to refuse anymore of Blaine's cake; it proved to no avail.

"What kind of cake is this?" Trent asked, hardly discernable from his full mouth.

Wes took a drink of his glass. "_French Perigourdine_!" he said in a mock French accent.

Jeff took a large mouthful. "I don't know your mom, but I think I might be in love," he joked, eyeing his cake with a lustful sort of expression. The short brunette beside him elbowed his friend in the stomach. "Ouch, Nick!"

Everyone finished the rest of their cakes, hardly paying attention to the television program at hand. Afterwards, Wes picked up the fifth Harry Potter movie. "Blaine, guess who has your favorite movie . . ." he tempted, waving it around as if it were an Alexander McQueen jacket (in Kurt's opinion, anyway).

Blaine gave a look particularly reminiscent of his boyfriend. "As much as I love the fifth movie, we all know that my favorite is-"

"The third one!" Kurt finished, looking quite proud of himself. Blaine nodded and looked to Wes expectantly, because _surely_ his best friend would have his favorite movie!

Which he did.

The movie started, and the Warblers all tried to find somewhere to sit (one would think it'd be easier, considering the size of the entertainment room).

Blaine claimed a large armchair, pulling the countertenor in his lap even while his boyfriend struggled against him. Eventually, Kurt wore and settled himself into the chair. Trent chose to steal a pillow from the couch and settled himself on the floor, Thad following in suit. Nick sat himself on the couch, offering a seat to Jeff, who graciously took it. Wes and David picked two chairs beside each other, stopped, then switched seats.

"To be honest, I like the fourth movie better," Thad complained. A gasp of horror was heard from Trent as a large hand was aimed at the back of Thad's head.

"Blaine likes _this_ movie! This is what we watch!"

Kurt chuckled. "Looks like you've got yourself an admirer," he whispered into Blaine's ear, loving how the dark-haired teen shivered slightly at the sudden closeness.

"I _hope_ I've got two," Blaine answered.

"You might; then again, you might not."

"You wound me, good sir!" Blaine retorted in his best Monty Python impersonation. Which, if one were getting technical, was actually quite good.

David made a gagging sound, obviously done with the show of British affection. "Get a room!"

"Not at my house!" Wes interjected.

Jeff looked over at Nick, a smile playing on his lips. The smile faded slightly when he noticed his friend seemed to be working up a sweat. "Do you need to take off your jacket?" he asked, catching his brunette of a friend off guard.

"It _is_ pretty hot in here, isn't it?" Nick answered, placing his head against his hand.

"My family keeps my home at a comfortable sixty-five degrees, I'll have you know!"

Blaine threw a pillow at his friend. "He doesn't mind, Nick."

"Though Jeff might," David muttered, pretending to be quiet, even though he knew that everyone could hear him perfectly.

Ignoring the comment, Nick shed his jacket, pushing some of his hair back from his face.

"Dude, you're soaked!" Thad exclaimed. One look at Nick proved his point; the brunette's white shirt was sticking to him.

Kurt got off of Blaine and placed a hand to Nick's forehead. "You're burning up!"

This time, Jeff jumped to his feet, kneeling down beside his friend. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked as if nobody else was around. And, Kurt figured, he probably didn't notice anyone else.

Nick's breathing was heavy and labored; he squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them in a feeble attempt to focus them. "I think I'm going to-" He clamped a hand over his mouth, finding it too hard to speak without becoming nauseated. David grabbed a nearby trash can and held it out in front of Nick.

A nod of thank you was all it took to force the sick Warbler to empty his stomach in the trash can. Blaine's lips tightened into a thin line. "Has he been sick all day?" he asked Jeff. The blonde shook his head absentmindedly, not daring to keep his eyes off his friend.

Once Nick had thrown up everything he could, he still dry-heaved; tears were beginning to form at the corner of his eyes.

"Have you had the flu recently?" Kurt asked.

Nick shook his head slowly.

"A cold?"

Another negative response.

"Do you have an allergy?"

This time, Jeff nodded. "Yeah, he does."

Blaine took over. "To what?"

"Walnuts."

Thad furrowed his brow. "We all had chicken noodle soup for lunch today, and we had pizza for dinner. Are you sure it's not the flu?"

"Wes, what did you say your mom made for dessert?" Kurt asked calmly.

"French Perigourdine," he answered.

The countertenor made a horrified face as years of French class came flooding back into his mind all at once. "French Perigourdine _Walnut_ cake!"

Jeff's mouth opened in shock. "What do we do?" he half-whispered in a hoarse voice he couldn't quite believe was his own.

It soon became aware where Kurt belonged. Despite their wonderful grades, the Warblers were less like birds and more like rodents. Lemmings, to be exact. Without him, they'd have no idea what to do. And, while that gave a slightly vain sense of superiority over them, Kurt decided that this was not the best time to bring up his new epiphany. He whipped out his overused cell phone and began dialing.

"I'm calling an ambulance," he announced. "Blaine, give him back his jacket. Jeff, lie him down on the couch, but do _not_ put a pillow under his head."

The lead Warbler did as told, even if Nick kept rejecting the jacket, insisting that it was too hot. His breathing became more frantic and labored as time went on.

"Someone keep him calm!" Kurt instructed, still on the phone with the operator.

Jeff sat down next to Nick, putting a firm hand on his trembling shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, okay? I should've known - this is all my fault, I-"

Nick shook his head, obviously disagreeing. He took a quick breath, shuddering. "I ca-can't . . ." his voice trailed off, and for a moment Jeff feared that his friend had passed out. Fortunately (or unfortunately), Nick continued his erratic breathing; Jeff could only imagine how hard it must be. Taking this as a moment to do as Kurt had said, Jeff grabbed his friend's shoulder again and laid him backwards.

This was probably the worst time, Jeff realized, but Nick truly was beautiful. He was short (much like Blaine), but very slight (kind of like Kurt). His dark hair that was sometimes obviously brown and sometimes closer to black framed his face so perfectly it was criminal. And, while Jeff was quite aware that he would _never_ dare tell Nick that he felt this way, he couldn't deny it-

_I'm in love with him._

Kurt got off the phone with a huff, startling the two boys on the couch. "It's snowing out, so they'll be slightly delayed," he whispered to Blaine. "What do we do?"

Blaine grabbed Kurt and pulled him close so that only he could hear him. "Calm down, babe; it's gonna be okay. It _has_ to be okay." The two looked at each other - Kurt near tears, Blaine's jaw set firmly so that he didn't start freaking out - and they just seemed to understand each other.

Nick began coughing, catching Kurt's attention once more. The countertenor looked at his boyfriend with a frightened expression; Blaine put his arm on the top of Kurt's head, kissing it gently as an added emotional support. He could really do nothing else.

"An EpiPen!" Kurt yelled, completely spoiling the moment. "Jeff, do you know if he has one?"

The blonde didn't even react to the fact that Kurt just _knew_ that Jeff was aware of everything about Nick. They knew each other inside and out, even if they never truly acknowledged it.

Still, this was not the moment to be dwelling on it.

Like instinct, Jeff picked up Nick's backpack that had been left forgotten on the floor. He opened the front compartment and unzipped a pocket, pulling out the needle. He had about twenty articles on how to use an Epipen, because, honestly, he _always_ wanted to be there for Nick.

"Do you have to . . . ?" Blaine asked, curiosity written all across his worried face.

"No, you don't have to take his pants off, Mr. In-A-Relationship," David retorted, doing his best to add at least a little bit of humor to the tense situation.

"And you say your mom's a doctor," Wes noted.

The curly-haired Warbler said nothing but only gave a sour face. Jeff chose to ignore them and got down to Nick's level. "Hey, you still with me?"

A short nod from the sweat-covered Warbler allowed Jeff to tilt his chin. "Alright, I'm gonna give you this?" he said, though it sounded much more like a question. "Nick, I need you to stay awake." The two teens looked at each other, each with a look of pure terror.

What was the worst part, Jeff realized, wasn't that he had to give his best friend a shot - it was that his best friend was in so much pain already that he didn't even notice it.

Kurt sighed. "Alright, it's only a temporary treatment, but the ambulance is supposed to be here soon," he took a wary glance at the snowy driveway. "I sure hope so." The countertenor's blue-green eyes glanced over in an interested sort of way at the two teens on the couch. "Anderson, you'll be giving me ten dollars by the end of the night, you know," he mumbled off-handedly.

The boyfriend in question seemed appalled. "Oh, please. And, _please_ don't use my last name. I feel like I'm in trouble."

Everyone seemed to have calmed down a bit, even Nick. He closed his eyes and wiped his forehead, pushing his bangs all together. Naturally, as his best friend, Jeff _had_ to put it back into place, his hand lingering for more than a few seconds.

And Nick didn't push him away.

No one dared to say anything, but they were certainly _thinking_.

It was quite impossible to say that Nick was anything close to better, but he wasn't dead (and Jeff couldn't be more thankful). After a few minutes of nothing (which seemed like hours of nothing), bright lights began to flash outside. Nick's eyes darted towards Jeff, fear immediately written over his pale face. "What do I do?" he whispered slowly. Jeff said nothing and scooped up his friend, noticing just how tiny he really was. Usually, this was adorable; now, it was simply frightening.

Trent opened the door, allowing every other Warbler to file out before rushing out the door himself. Two men stood outside the ambulance with a gurney. One was a tall men in his mid-fourties with light brown hair and creases on his forehead. The other was a slimmer man with black hair, looking to be about thirty. The taller man reached for the gurney pushing it forward slightly.

"Have you administered an EpiPen?" the younger man asked.

Kurt nodded, taking complete charge of the situation, seeing as no one else would. "About ten minutes ago."

The two paramedics nodded, glancing at each other. "And has be been showing signs of anaphylactic shock?" the older man asked. "Any coughing, difficulty breathing, nausea?"

This time Blaine bobbed his head up and down. "Yeah, I'm not for sure how long, though," he added.

"Let's lay him down," one (Jeff wasn't quite sure which one; he was only focused on Nick), said. But, finding it most useful to listen to the professionals, Jeff laid him down, hesitating as Nick kept a weak hold on the blonde's arm.

"Don't go," he mouthed.

The men took no notice to the silent pleading and began to load the gurney into the ambulance, and Jeff realized that, even if he was being completely irrational, this might just be the only time (and the last time) he might get to say this.

"I love you!" he practically yelled, trying not to notice the Nick's eyes widen significantly and and then attempt to get up. The taller man gently pushed him back down and began to close the door.

"We don't recommend anyone riding with us. We need to monitor his signs very closely. You're free to follow along in another car, but," he paused, glancing at the torrent of snow, "I don't think it'd be a good idea for you kids in this weather."

The ambulance drove away, leaving the Warblers in uncomfortable silence. Kurt grabbed his car keys from out of his pocket and glanced at his boyfriend. "We're following, right?" he asked, though he didn't seem as if his opinion would sway no matter what anyone said.

That was, of course, until the rest of the group ran to the car.

"I guess we are."

**A.N.: I'm sure we can all figure out what's going to happen next, but I'm not quite sure if I'm going to continue this. So, I'd like a bit of an opinion. Also, I know that there wasn't as much Klaine as I would've hoped, but if I do continue this, I certainly plan on making much more Klaine. I still hope you all enjoyed it! (Also, I know NOTHING about allergic reactions, as you could plainly tell; and if someone would be kind enough to inform me so that I may re-edit this story, I would be most grateful!)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N.: I had some wonderful reviews, and honestly, I don't really mind the lack of reviews. As long as _one_ person enjoyed it (in this case, two), I feel as if I've done my job as an author. So, thank you very much for everything! I don't own GLEE, and I'm not for sure if I'm going to turn this story into a multi-chapter sort of thing or just a two-shot.**

"I need to call my dad," Kurt said softly, wrapping his winter coat around himself. The Warblers had retreated inside for a few minutes to grab their things. "He'll want to know, _if_ he lets me go." The countertenor picked up his cell phone and dialed his father.

"Hey, kiddo. How's the party?" Burt asked, his tone a little too chipper for the time of night. "Sorry about what happened."

Kurt bit his lip, wondering how he was going to go about this. "Um, we're having some trouble here; it's snowing really badly-"

"Do you need me to come get you?" his father's worried voice asked from the other line.

"No, I just - we're going to the hospital in a few minutes and-"

Once again, Kurt was intercepted by Burt's concerned tone. "Okay, who's going to the hospital? Do I need to pick you up?" As annoying as it was to be interrupted, Kurt couldn't deny how nice it felt that his father was genuinely worried about his (and the other Warblers'), well-beings. Unfortunately, this conversation seemed as if it was leaning towards the direction of "I'm not letting you drive a _big_ car in _bad_ weather!" The countertenor ran a hand through his no-longer-perfect hair.

"One of the Warblers got really sick, and we need to visit the hospital! Listen, I know the weather's bad, but I'll be really careful!"

The rest of the group looked over with curiosity at the seemingly one-sided conversation.

"Is Blaine with you?" Burt asked. The funny part, Kurt realized, was that no one but the Warblers knew about the . new relationship. All the excitement halted the inevitable Facebook update - Kurt Hummel: In a Relationship.

He knew at least _twelve_ people that would "like" that.

"Yeah, he's here; I need to talk to you about something later, by the way. No, Dad, you're not going to have to shoot him!"

Blaine's eyebrow raised significantly. He looked over at Wes, who shrugged his shoulders in a vain attempt at comfort.

"It's _really_ not that bad out, hardly snowing! Okay, meet me at the hospital," Kurt sighed heavily, seemingly defeated. "I love you, too. Bye." The countertenor hung up and looked quite ready to knock his head against the front door. "Okay, everyone, _get in the car_," he enunciated the last part quite clearly.

Once again, Trent opened the door and let everyone else out before himself. Blaine opened the car door for Kurt because, even in a time of crisis, he was still a gentleman.

No one even dared talking to Jeff; the blonde kept jiggling his foot up and down, a nervous trait of his that he'd kept for years. A smile began to play on his lips when he remembered that Nick always made fun of him for it. The smile promptly faded.

He tried not to think of it, but Nick kept reappearing in his mind. That small brunette who looked so desperate the last time they had really talked. The fragile teen that he had confessed his love to. The one that looked positively scared from the announcement.

Everyone piled into the large car, and Kurt turned on the ignition. The warm air was immediately a relief to the freezing outside. Blaine rubbed his fingers together, lacing his hand in his boyfriend's open on. The brunette turned to face him with a look of slight fear. "Everything will be just fine. I promise," Blaine whispered so that only they could hear each other. "Courage, remember?"

A sigh from the countertenor followed by a light smile allowed Blaine to place a soft kiss on the pale hand.

"Ahem," Wes cleared his throat. "Can we get going now?"

Kurt nodded, pulling out of the driveway slowly. "Okay, so my dad's coming to pick me up, and then I'll probably be going home. He can take some of you guys home, if you want."

The drive to the hospital was very cautious. And very slow. After ten minutes or so, Jeff began to drum his fingers irritably against the window. His face was unreadable, his jaw set. He kept tapping his feet until Trent turned around to face him. "Would you please stop?" he demanded.

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm _worried_," Jeff snapped back.

"We're all worried about Nick!" Trent countered, trying to keep at least a little bit of peace in the tense atmosphere.

"Not like me! None of you know him like _I_ do! He's my _best friend_, and I-"

"Love him?" Kurt deadpanned, eyes clearly not amused. "Everyone heard you; he heard you. Sorry, but if you _really_ loved him, you'd know that he'd want you to _not_ be freaking out."

Jeff inhaled sharply, an argument soon on the horizon. "You don't know how I feel!"

"I'm just saying," Kurt retorted, "would he be wanting you to start snapping at everyone?"

"I- I don't know! Just shut-"

A low growl came from the passenger seat. Though no one could see, Blaine's eyes were dark and nearly dangerous. "Jeff, be quiet," he said as calmly as he could without causing an even larger fight. Even if they had only been dating for a few days, Blaine Anderson became quite protective when anyone insulted or even yelled at his boyfriend.

Now officially known as the most beautiful, best thing that had ever happened to him.

Jeff leaned back in his seat, thoroughly calmed down. "I'm sorry. I'm just - just worried."

The mood became much less tense, as everyone had come to be less irritable towards Jeff and much more sympathetic. It was quite obvious that (even before the love confession), they were both horribly in love with each other; they just wouldn't admit it (or, much like Blaine and Kurt, were much too oblivious).

The common bet was that it was the latter option.

Thirty minutes later (and what a long half of an hour it was), Kurt pulled into the hospital parking lot, sighing with relief that he had actually driven in that weather and made it to the destination in one piece. He turned off the car and rested his head on the steering wheel, breathing deeply.

Blaine reached over and touched his boyfriend's shoulder gently. "This is why you passed your driving test on the first try."

The group of Warblers got out of the car and practically ran inside, each nearly slipping on the icy ground (courtesy of their wonderful custom-made shoes that had no traction whatsoever. Jeff was the first out of the revolving doors, not quite sure what to do after that.

Kurt followed close behind and walked with purpose to the front desk. "Are you looking for someone?" the receptionist asked with a dazzling smile.

"Yes, Nick Duval."

The woman turned to find the room they were looking for on the roster; she then glanced up at the large group of teens. "Are his parents anywhere?" she asked gently.

"They won't come," Jeff spoke up, looking quite definite in his answer.

Kurt truly pitied the woman, noticing just how awkward she must have felt. "Well," she started, her voice cracking slightly, "no nurses have come out yet, but I will tell you when anything new comes up. Is there a . . . name that I should call?"

"Warblers," Wes answered.

"As in, the bird?"

"The very same," Blaine nodded.

Kurt huffed and sat down in a chair, feeling that there was no way that arguing would really help in the current situation. He motioned for the rest of the Warblers to join him, and they did so without complaint.

Blaine smiled gently and squeezed his boyfriend's hand. As usual, Kurt never let anyone know what he was really thinking, even if the entire world was crumbling in from the inside. Luckily, this was not the case; though that didn't make him feel much better.

When Kurt looked over, however, Blaine decided that he would try to break down those barriers eventually; not today, but eventually.

"Are you okay?" the shorter teen asked.

"Better than Jeff," came the witty response.

This statement was much too true. Jeff sat by himself, a space between him and Thad. His foot kept the rhythmic tapping that it usually did when he was mulling over something important. But this was not important - it was life-changing.

"Why don't we call Nick's parents?" Trent asked, slipping his cell phone from his pocket. "They'll want to know that their _son_ is in the _hospital_."

Jeff sighed; it was natural that no one else would know why. Nick was too good at keeping secrets from everyone, too good at keeping secrets on how his parents didn't approve of anything he did. An A was not a good enough grade on a test, backup (if he truly insisted on being part of that singing group), was not good enough, not having a girlfriend was not good enough.

Nothing ever was.

To be honest, Jeff wasn't quite sure why Nick never seemed interested in any of the girls he went out with (other than he was gay), but the blonde supposed it was because he wanted to care about someone of his own volition (male or female), not something arranged. And, sure, he _did_ audition for solos, but he didn't think any less of Blaine when the lead was given to him - he respected Blaine to no end (even if he'd never admit it). He got near-perfect grades most of the time, but when he didn't, he nearly always freaked.

The funny thing was, everyone knew that Nick was gay, except for his parents. That, or they were in permanent denial.

"Earth to Lover Boy!" David called as a young nurse walked into the waiting room.

"Warblers!" the receptionist yelled, not looking up from her work.

The nurse, a blonde girl with pretty green eyes, met the group. "No family?" she asked, a confused expression written on her face.

"They won't come," the receptionist responded, now smirking. Who knew that two minutes with such a strange group could rub off on a person.

Wes led the group to the nurse, straightening his tie as he did so. _Even off hours, a Warbler must still appear as dapper gentleman, worthy of the title "role model". _(Warbler Handbook, Page 137, Paragraph 2.)

"So, I'll be giving the status report to you young men?" she asked, trying to hide her most obvious blush. "Well, Mr. Duval is responding positively to the medication, but he also showed signs of dehydration and exhaustion. Has something major happened recently?"

The lead Warbler slapped a hand to his forehead. "We were just performing at a singing competition and lost. Big time." Blaine seemed quite guilty, even if he hadn't put together the itinerary of practice.

"Alright, sweetie, that's stress. Anything else?" They may be the Warblers, but these boys sang like cute little canaries.

"We've been having a non-stop practice schedule and haven't left much time to anything else," Thad spoke up, shooting a wayward glance at Wes.

The blonde woman placed a hand on her hip. "I see. Is there anything else, maybe a major test or something?" For some reason (or perhaps he wasn't thinking straight), she looked straight at Jeff. "Please, don't be afraid to hide anything."

Jeff shifted uncomfortably on one foot to the other. "I think he's been having some family problems, but I'm not for sure," he lied. Nick had made Jeff pinky-swear that he would never tell. And, with Nick Duval, Jeff quickly learned not to break the pinky-swear. Just don't.

"The doctor will have to ask him about that later. Anyway, I recommend only _one_ of you staying with Mr. Duval until he wakes up. We really don't want to startle him." She tried to ignore the crestfallen looks on the Warblers' faces. Until Kurt stepped up. It was probably right that Kurt stay with Nick. He was the one, after all, who took control of the situation and practically saved the short brunette's life.

"Jeff, he's _your_ best friend. You should watch him. So that, you know, you two can get things settled."

If Kurt wasn't dating Blaine and Jeff wasn't madly in love with Nick, Jeff might've kissed him. "I don't . . ."

"A 'thank-you' would suffice perfectly."

And there was that all-knowing Kurt Hummel who could figure out an entire person with just one glance but could never truly be figured out himself. Now the blonde Warbler was aware of why Blaine looked to his boyfriend with such reverence.

"Thanks."

"If and when he wakes up, he'll most likely be confused for a while; and don't be surprised if he's extremely tired and groggy."

The nurse allowed Jeff to go into the quiet hospital room, not looking away until Jeff had seated himself in a chair that was close enough to get to Nick if something went wrong but far enough away so that he wasn't breathing down his friend's neck. The door was left cracked open, allowing privacy but also allowing easy access for a doctor.

Nick's skin (which was normally pale, anyway), was almost as white as the sheets, his dark hair making a stark and uncomfortable contrast. His eyes were shut with a sort of pained expression that nobody but Jeff could truly even notice. Jeff wanted so much to lean in and kiss his friend right there, but timing meant everything in a relationship (Blaine had been sure to emphasize this point about his relationship with Kurt and when to break the news that he was in love). He watched the steady rise and fall of Nick's chest and smiled lightly.

There was something so sixth-sense-like about Nick that no one (not even Jeff), could truly ever comprehend. He knew when he was being watched, which at times made a secret admirer impossible to have, and could never let anyone stare at him without turning around.

The brunette's eyes fluttered open, immediately trying to focus on the room around him. It would be rather hard, considering the very white walls and very bright lights. He made a groan of recognition that he was awake and tried to raise a hand above his eyes. Eventually, he seemed to become accustomed to the situation, and without even acknowledging Jeff, made a slight whimper of pain.

"How are you feeling?" Jeff gently asked.

Nick's eyes darted towards the blonde. "Jeff?"

**A.N.: We all know that a confession's coming up, but if you all want me to continue, I'd be more than happy to! Please review, and I certainly hope that you all enjoyed!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N.: How can I thank everyone who reviewed, I thought to myself? And then, I realized, I could write another chapter! Yeah, I should be updating "The List", but I haven't been able to fully listen to the song that I want to incorporate into the chapter, so it'll take a while. But, I know how to make things up as I go, so here it is! Also, thanks to everyone who favorited and added this story to alerts (I didn't realize how many people had even _read_ this)!**

Kurt finally settled down into the hospital chair, his heart still moving a mile a minute. He looked down at his cell phone, checking to see if anyone from New Directions had texted to talk about the after party. He and Blaine had been invited, of course, but the Warblers meant just a bit more (considering he sang a duet and, subsequently, made them lose).

The countertenor's eyes scrolled down the list - one from Finn, one from Tina, eight from Rachel, two from Mercedes, and one from . . . Blaine.

Looking over, Kurt saw Blaine hold up his own cell phone, a smirk playing on his lips.

_Courage_. _-Blaine_

Kurt smiled lightly and felt a bit of stress rise from his shoulders. He hated to think, if he were in Jeff's position, what would happen if it were Blaine. Then again, Nick and Blaine were _nothing_ alike. Blaine was short, yes, but he was broad-shouldered and strong; Nick was slight in both height and weight and looked as if, in a gang fight, he'd get beaten easily.

_Trying. -Kurt_

Blaine's face softened in sympathy.

_Wanna make a bet? -Blaine_

_How so? -Kurt_

The two teens (Wes and David, otherwise known as those evil Siamese cats from Lady and the Tramp), now seemed interested in the conversation. They looked over at Blaine's phone with raised eyebrows, whispering something into their friend's ear.

_I bet that Jeff and Nick'll get together by the end of today. -Blaine_

Kurt bit his lip to keep from chuckling too loudly. Trent and Thad glanced over at the countertenor, telling him to ask for a money wager. It was, after all, common knowledge that Kurt Hummel never lost bets; he made certain of that.

_Ten dollars? -Kurt_

David and Wes nodded their heads fervently, seeing the prospect of an easy ten dollars a joyous thing indeed. The curly-haired Warbler himself seemed quite invested into the wager, typing something quickly.

_Sorry, babe, but I'll win. -Blaine_

Apparently, Kurt thought, Blaine wasn't aware of his secret power of winning every bet he ever made. Now, that didn't mean that he betted often, but when he did (and it was usually against Finn), he usually managed to make a small lump of cash.

And _everyone_ knew that Blaine was thoroughly loaded.

Taking a chance to look outside, Kurt frowned. Snow was falling freely, as if it didn't realize that it had nearly made quite a lovely mess. Then again, he supposed, snow couldn't really _realize_ anything, but it wasn't making things any easier. He wondered how long it would take his father to get there, _if_ he got there.

Then, another thought.

What if something bad happened? Burt was, after all, always known as an aggressive driver. Suppose he got some of his famous "road rage" and then simply slipped off the road. Into a dark pit. With an ocean at the bottom. Filled with alligators. And piranhas. Then again, that was such a silly notion. There were no oceans in Ohio. There were definitely lakes, though.

"You okay?" Blaine asked, finally breaking the long silence. Everyone (including the receptionist), turned their heads to stare at the lead Warbler as if he were infected with something.

"Yeah, I was just thinking about lakes," Kurt answered nonchalantly.

Trent stared quizzically at the countertenor's answer but chose to say nothing. Wes, on the other hand, was not as quiet. "A lake? Where did that come from?"

A part of Kurt really didn't feel like explaining his impossibly crazy thought pattern to the Warblers, and he looked to Blaine for an explanation (though he wasn't quite sure why).

"Nick can't swim," Blaine explained. "Jeff told me that he's pretty sheltered and never got around to learning how." The lead Warbler folded his arms across his chest. "And I would prefer that you _not_ mock my boyfriend. He was the only one, if I remember correctly, that _didn't_ freak out under the situation."

The way he said that, so matter-of-factly, warmed the countertenor's heart. He couldn't keep the smile from spreading across his face - especially not when Blaine referred to Kurt as _his_ boyfriend.

"Sorry," Wes apologized.

"My mom's gonna kill me for being out so late!" Trent complained. "She thought that I'd only be there until midnight!" He checked his watch, groaning again. "It's already eleven!"

Was it really that late? Now Kurt was _certain_ that his father had driven off a cliff. If he had known that it was that late, he might've just smudged the truth a little and said that he was simply spending the night at Wes' house. Without Blaine, naturally. He hadn't even told Burt about Blaine yet.

Well, that was going to be something of an interesting conversation.

Luckily (and Kurt couldn't really believe that he was even thinking this), his father had driven off the road and could say nothing about the relationship affectionately known as "Klaine." All Kurt would have to worry about was telling Carole and Finn. Carole wouldn't mind because she'd be happy that Kurt was happy; and Finn would eventually just get over himself, the countertenor figured.

Wait, was it a cliff or a road that Burt happened to fall from? Kurt rested his chin on his hand to work through his confusing question.

The door rolled open, and Burt walked through, looking every bit as imposing as he usually did, standing tall and large. The Warblers all looked around with surprised, not quite realizing that Kurt (that beautiful, songbird of a boy), could have came from Burt, who was . . . none of those things, actually.

"Dad!" Kurt called in a chipper voice that was seriously against how he was really feeling at the moment, Blaine realized. And, this would probably end up being bad judgment on his part, Blaine stood up to join Kurt. Much like a boyfriend would. The older gentleman paused to furrow his eyebrows in the slightest bit of confusion, the way that Kurt usually did when he couldn't quite wrap his mind around something. The lead Warbler began to feel very out of place, now that he was fully aware of his actions.

"Hey, kiddo. Rough time getting here?" Burt asked, not taking his attention off Blaine, as if to say "Why are _you_ standing?"

Blaine cleared his throat and outstretched a shaky hand. "Mr. Hummel," he greeted in his best gentlemanly voice.

"Call me Burt."

"Or Dad," David coughed out, sniggering lightly; Wes punched him in the shoulder, laughing lightly himself. Actually, Trent and Thad were, too. Traitors. All of them.

"Yeah, it was pretty slick, but I did really well!" Kurt chirped, seeming very relieved after his father had come. Why he seemed so relieved was a mystery to Blaine; then again, one could never really tell with Kurt Hummel. That was the amazing thing about him.

Burt frowned. "Why is he smiling?"

It was then that, in his reverie of being completely enamored with the thought of Kurt, Blaine realized that he had adopted his usual goofy grin often accompanied with daydreaming. He mentally slapped himself and returned to his sober expression. "I'm glad that you had a safe ride, Mr. Hu- Burt." It just felt so odd saying an adult's name so carelessly!

"He's glad that you're safe," Kurt supplied, shooting his boyfriend (the fact of which was still hidden from Burt), a sideways smile.

"Kurt!" Finn Hudson, that awkwardly tall football player that tended to trip over his own feet came stumbling through the door, managing to get snow everywhere and subsequently tripping on the already melting snow. The countertenor laughed at his stepbrother's stupidity and attempted to help him up.

Unfortunately for poor, helpful Kurt, Finn was in a bit of a jovial mood and pulled Kurt down with him. Blaine's eyes widened as he desperately tried to reach for his boyfriend.

Oh, right. The whole 'boyfriend' thing.

"Finn Hudson! If we don't die on the way home, _you_ certainly will be gone by tomorrow!" Kurt hissed, though he couldn't keep a light smile from his face.

Burt couldn't peel his eyes away from the amusing sight of two high school kids practically _wrestling_ on the floor. It was especially funny when his son was the won currently winning.

"Blaine, kick him!" Kurt called, managing to peel Finn's hand from his face.

"Dude, get him off me! He just got a manicure!" Finn countered, struggling to flip his stepbrother.

If Blaine helped Kurt, it might make it painfully obvious that the two were in a relationship; if he didn't and helped Finn, it would look as if he really didn't care about Kurt anymore. And there could be nothing more wrong about that statement.

"So, these are the Warblers?" Burt asked, motioning towards the group of teens staring at Finn with a mixed look of pure shock and admiration. Never, in the short time that Kurt had attended Dalton, had he _ever _consented to a friendly wrestling match.

"Yes, sir," Wes stood up, taking charge. "I'm Wes; this is David," he motioned to his best friend in the chair beside him. "That's Trent and Thad, and Jeff and Nick are in the hospital room."

Burt nodded, not looking too impressed. "So, what possessed you idiots to drive in this weather?" he asked, including his son in the group of morons. Kurt slid off Finn and looked slightly guilty.

"Well," Wes started, speaking for the group because he (besides Blaine), was the most articulate speaker. But Blaine was probably closer to a bumbling mess much akin to Trent. "When one is a Warbler, you can't leave another Warbler in distress without making sure that they are properly safe and cared for. We figured that a hospital was a safe environment, but we just wanted to make sure. It was pretty much my fault that we're here in the first place, anyway." Wes had never stated that he felt responsible for the whole fiasco, and, while he did host the party with the dreaded walnut cake (and work the boys to the point of exhaustion, but no one dared make a scene out of that), the thought of blaming Wes had never come to anyone's mind.

"Alright. Who needs a ride home?" Burt asked, changing the subject. He wasn't the type to dwell on a matter, even if it was to make someone feel better.

"Me!" Trent all but screamed. "My mom wants me home, I bet!"

Thad raised his hand shyly. "My parents won't want me out in this weather."

The "Siamese cats" seemed to mull over their thoughts for a while. "I should probably be getting home," David said finally, Wes nodding in agreement.

Now, Blaine had to make his decision. Obviously, Kurt would be going home with his father, but he didn't really feel to keen on the idea of leaving Jeff alone with Nick. What if something went wrong? Who would Jeff be able to turn to for help. Certainly not his own shadow. What could a shadow do if nobody else was around? "Um, I want to stay with Nick and Jeff, but I doubt that I'll manage getting a ride home after that," Blaine said with as much tact he could muster under the watchful gaze of Burt Hummel.

"I could stay and then drive you home!" Kurt offered, "besides, I have to be able to get my car home, anyway." He looked hopefully at his father, seemingly forgetting why he had called him in the first place.

"Or you could leave it here, and you and Burt could get it back in the morning!" Finn said, not quite understanding that Kurt was merely trying to get alone with his boyfriend. "Besides, do _you_ want to spend so much time with Blaine?"

The countertenor gave one of his famous death glares, promising a swift and painful smack in the back of the head if Finn continued with his rabbit trail. He did. "It's not like you two are going out or anything, right?" the tall boy asked with an innocent expression that perfectly hid his ulterior motives. A part of Kurt wondered if Rachel or Mercedes had demanded him to do this.

"Are you?" David prodded, causing Blaine to wonder why he had even befriended him.

Burt had said nothing this entire time, only watching with raised curiosity at the scene unfolding in front of him. He figured that, if nothing, _Kurt_ would be the one to start chattering about the question at hand. Not even for a moment did he think that this group of "idiots" would be the ones to clear up the whole situation.

"Well," Kurt started softly, trying to find a simple way to fall into his words. He soon realized, however, there was no easy way to put it gently. "Yeah."

Burt only made a grunt in recognition; he would have to talk about this with those two later. But for now, he knew, the main problem was how to get all these boys home. And, on that matter, where were some parents? And, it was known that Burt Hummel was not a man of gentle words and was also not a silent man. "Where's the kid's parents?"

"We're not sure," Blaine said softly, not quite certain if he should even be talking after Burt had found out about their new relationship. "Jeff said that they probably wouldn't be showing up. But we don't really know why." He ran a hand through his curly hair, just then noticing that he had promptly gotten all the gel out of it. Blaine stopped and instinctively looked around. "I have to, er, check my bag for something."

Kurt giggled, something so novel to Burt Hummel; his son hadn't laughed in ages, not like that. "It looks cute, Blaine. Keep it like that."

Blaine stopped, hand retreating from opening his backpack.

"Whipped," Finn mentioned slowly, grinning.

"What about Quinn?" Kurt retorted, looking every bit as smug as he talked. He didn't mince words, much like his father.

"She's different! She'll hurt me!" the tall boy yelled back.

Blaine got a half-worried, half-joking expression. "And he won't?" Well, it was kind of a quarter joking; he knew very well that Kurt would in fact hurt him if the situation called for it. And he wouldn't be gentle about it, either; it was not Kurt's way.

As funny as the slight spat between them was, Burt figured it was time to get going; he _really_ didn't want the storm to get any worse because he had _for sure_ spent enough time in the hospital for a lifetime.

"Alright, let's get going," he said in his usual gruff tone (which, if one didn't know him, one would think that he was being harsh; but when one got to know the softie behind the intimidating face, one would realize that Burt Hummel just normally talked like that.

Wes looked up from the amusing argument. "Can we check on Jeff before we leave, just to let him know where we're going?"

There was no harm in that. "Go on," Burt motioned for the group. "But then we have to get on the road 'cause it's going to be a _pretty_ bad one."

Kurt led the group into the stark room, each teen making a feeble attempt to refocus their eyes at the sharp intensity of the room. After all, the lobby _was_ dimly lit; it was only natural that they'd have a rough time adjusting their eyes to the scenery.

And, once the crowd _did_ eventually get used to the light, they ended up meeting a very pale and very surprised Nick looking up at an equally surprised Jeff.

**A.N.: Okay, so I just HAD to bring in my little dosage of Klaine. Trust me, Jeff and Nick will eventually get their moment alone and will eventually get their feelings sorted out. Also, I'm not quite sure if Nick will get better immediately (I'm just warning you guys so that you can't blame me for keeping the drama up to eleven. As usual, I don't own GLEE, and I hope that you all enjoyed! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N.: Wow, what wonderful reviews! I mean, the more I update, the more reviews I get! And, while this really doesn't apply to any of you guys, I want to officially state that some of my fanfiction involving anime have now been put on hold. So, I want to be able to work on this (and my other Klaine story), for my GLEE fans. Thanks again, guys! Also, I don't own GLEE (duh!).**

The Warblers stared at the two teens in the hospital room, first at Jeff, then at Nick. After that, their brains began to click into motion and realized that their recently hospitalized friend was now awake and staring at Jeff with a look of surprise.

"Nick!" Blaine called in shock, rushing over the bed, followed closely by Kurt. The countertenor was bouncing on the balls of his feet; David and Wes both came over and greeted Jeff.

And now, the blonde was staring dumbfounded at the group. He was close, _so close_ finally getting his alone time with Nick, the time needed to sort things out between the two. He needed to explain just how much his best friend really meant to him (and he meant a lot). Unfortunately, the Warblers (and he loved them to death), had come to spoil the moment and were now crowding around the bed.

Nick turned his attention to Blaine, smiling lightly.

"How are you feeling?" Blaine asked; and, while Kurt hadn't really known him that long, he still thought that Blaine was just so adorable when he started caring about his fellow students more than himself.

"Good," Nick lied, actually feeling positively drained. He wasn't quite sure what was wrong with him (as he hadn't seen a doctor), but he figured that he needed a serious nap (which couldn't really be accomplished with his friends worrying about him so much). The brunette yawned lightly as a way to try and coax his friends into leaving him alone, but they simply chalked it up to just waking up.

Wes looked . . . not like Nick had ever seen him. Usually, the teen was always so strictly business and didn't really care who was tired or who was thirsty. But now, he had a look of guilt that was nothing but heart-wrenching.

"Hey, that cake was delicious," Nick laughed; and he _was_ telling the truth. Before he knew that the cake was making a feverish attempt at his life, he was quite certain that Mrs. Montgomery was the best baker in all of Westerville, Ohio. And he still loved the taste, except for that it tried to kill him. He smiled weakly, feeling that his lips were very much chapped; he _hated_ chapped lips.

David and Blaine laughed nervously; they weren't quite sure whether or not Nick was serious, but Blaine did find it sweet that he had tried to cheer Wes up.

Wes offered a small smile. "You don't have to worry about Warbler practice for a while. Just do as much as you can. If you still want to be a Warbler, of course. I mean, I know that after everything that's happened, you probably aren't too keen on-"

"Of course I still want to be a Warbler! If you'll let me," Nick interjected. The brunette didn't want to sound too pushy or ungrateful, but the Warblers were _everything_ to him. Sure, he didn't get any solos, but he was perfectly content humming in the background because it meant that he was being useful for _something_. Life was pretty dull until the singing group came into play.

Blaine smiled widely. "I think I'm speaking for everyone here when I say that we'd love to keep you. But for now, you need to just focus on getting better."

A tall, balding man walked into the room, looking quite out of place. Nick wasn't quite sure who he was, but he did seem familiar somehow. "All right, kids, the snow's piling up. We _really_ need to get going," he tried to be polite yet urgent at the same time. He looked down at Nick, and the brunette immediately felt quite nervous. "Burt Hummel," he greeted, extending a large hand.

Nick took it and shook slightly. "Nick," he replied, "Wait, _Hummel_? As in, Kurt's dad?" Nick smiled as he remembered the picture saved on Kurt's phone of his father's and Finn's mother's wedding.

Burt nodded and looked over at Jeff. "How're you holding up?" he asked, seeming not to notice who was in the hospital bed. Not that Nick minded; he wasn't too fond of having everyone's attention on him. But Kurt's father seemed to be as quirky as Kurt was, even if no one else noticed.

The blonde teen lifted his head in surprise. "I'm . . . fine," he answered. Nick narrowed his eyes slightly, not truly believing his friend.

"You don't look it," Burt responded without changing the tone in his voice. Unfortunately, his son then deemed that Burt was overstepping a few boundary lines and hissed under his breath.

"Dad, he said he's fine. Don't start psychoanalyzing." Nearly immediately after Kurt finished scolding his father, a tall boy all but stumbled into the room; he seemed self-conscious about being in a room full of people who were staring at him and his faltering steps.

"Dude, what's wrong with him?" the teen asked gesturing towards Nick.

"I'm allergic to walnuts," Nick replied, not upset despite the tone in the tall boy's voice. He was quite certain that, if Kurt even _allowed_ him into the room, he probably meant little to no harm.

"You can go to the hospital for that?" he asked, dumbfounded. "Dude, that's insane!"

Kurt looked ready to kill once more. "Finn Hudson, I swear that if you don't shut up in the next five seconds, I will rip out your vocal chords and stuff them up your-"

Blaine coughed loudly, cutting off the threat. "Sorry, Mr. Hummel. We probably should get going. Jeff, you don't mind calling the Duvals, do you?" Oh, right. Nick's parents probably _would_ want to know why their son was currently in the hospital; he just hadn't thought about that.

"Sorry, but I still want to be able to see the road," Burt apologized, but he really didn't look too sorry. He was a father after all, and he (like any other sensible parent), wanted to make sure that _his_ son was safe and sound at home and _not_ at a hospital during a snowstorm. Nick couldn't blame him, even if he did want his friends to be able to stay a while longer.

"You guys go on; Jeff will make sure I don't die," the brunette joked, nodding to his best friend, who still seemed to be mulling over what Burt had said to him. Kurt nodded but didn't look too convinced, and it was quite obvious that Blaine felt uncomfortable leaving his friend alone.

The blonde Warbler in question eventually met Nick's gaze. "Don't worry; I'll make sure nothing goes wrong," he said almost too quickly, like he wanted to believe it himself.

Nick sighed softly. Just like Jeff to be the self-doubting type; he was also the type to blame himself for every little bad thing that happened to everyone. Which is exactly why Nick never found the time or the reason to talk about former bullying problems or home life. He preferred to keep it on a silent note simply because he didn't want to worry his friend. And, to be honest, he wasn't quite keen on talking to any of the other Warblers (even if they were his friends), about things so personal.

"Let's get going," Burt said, heading out the door. The rest of the group remained for a few moments before a gruff voice from outside the door called to inform the teens that Burt Hummel was leaving _now_, and unless anyone wanted to spend the night at the hospital (and that includes you, Kurt), they'd better be getting a move on.

"Don't hurry back to school," Kurt warned as Blaine was literally shoving him out the door. "Drink plenty of water, and don't you _dare_ forget to get some rest! And when you do come back, you don't have to get involved in the intense choreography so quickly!" The countertenor's voice began to fade as Blaine finally managed to get him away from the door frame.

Nick smiled fondly at the over-caring teen; he was kind of like the mom of the Warblers, considering he was the only one who knew how to do _anything_. He glanced up at Jeff, recoiling lightly when he realized that the blonde hadn't kept his gaze off him.

"So," Nick began, not able to find quite the right words to say. Suppose he had been in a feverish haze when the ambulance had came, and Jeff _hadn't_ made some strange love confession. He couldn't really remember much from the whole experience, anyway, so why would he remember _that_? No, he had probably been dreaming; and while it was a wonderful dream, it was just that.

"You look terrible," Jeff noted nonchalantly, as if he was telling Nick that it was snowing outside. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm fine, just tired," Nick answered; he didn't find it very important to mention that he was particularly parched, as it would mean that Jeff would search the _entire_ hospital searching for a drinking fountain and, subsequently, a cup to put the water in.

Jeff grunted in response, turning his gaze to the tiled floor. "You're not hungry or anything, right?"

Even if he didn't have anything in his system (considering he threw his dinner up at Wes'), Nick was very much certain that he wanted nothing to eat. He cringed at the thought of anything meaty or creamy or . . . well, that was awkward.

Nick shook his head vehemently. "Listen, can we talk? When the ambulance came, I was pretty sure that I heard you say something to me," he paused slowly, gently falling into his words.

"Like?" Jeff asked. His facial expression quite easily showed that he had no idea what Nick was talking about; that, or he really didn't care.

"You said something like, you know, that you lo-"

The door opened, and a dark doctor walked in. He was aged and tall, his thin glasses framing his wrinkled face. He smiled gently at the sight of Nick, who was now sitting up. "Good to see you're awake," he greeted, his Jamaican accent thick.

"Yes, sir," Nick responded. "So," he began, quickly getting to his point, "when do I get to leave?"

The old gentleman laughed heartily. "You can leave whenever you want," he answered, "but we'd prefer you stay for a few more hours."

Nick began to search his mind and gather his thoughts. Yes, he was sick, he _felt_ sick, but he _really_ didn't want to have his parents driving out in the horrid weather (and he knew how upset his father would be over something as "stupid" as a walnut); still, he didn't want to have to make a decision right now because he simply wanted to merely sleep and forget everything.

"I'm sure I should stay," Nick said thoughtfully, "but I'd rather just go home, I think." He stopped to look at Jeff, who raised his head in protest, it seemed. The blonde's eyes were wary, as if he didn't think that Nick should really be going anywhere.

The doctor made a sort of disapproving click of his tongue. "I understand, but you do realize that you were also showing signs of severe dehydration and exhaustion, right?"

No, Nick _wasn't_ aware of that; now the brunette knew why he had felt so tired the past few days, why his body had screamed in protest whenever he got up in the morning or right before a Warblers practice. That could also explain why Wes seemed so guilty. He _was_ the one that put the choreography and practice times together and was also the one who refused to allow any of them take more than one break per practice.

"I-I know," Nick lied, biting his lip. He wasn't quite sure whether or not to leave or to stay. If he left, he wasn't quite sure where he'd get a ride from; but if he stayed, his parents would most certainly have to come and pick him up, and that would make such a mess.

With a slight smile, the old doctor patted Nick's shoulder. "I'll give you a few minutes to think about it, but as a doctor, you know what I'd suggest."

The brunette nodded a thank you and watched as the man left the room, cracking the door partly behind him. Nick looked up at Jeff, who now was holding a very strong and very unlike Jeff kind of glare. "Seriously? You're really thinking about checking out of a _hospital_?" The blonde emphasized the last word, making it quite obvious what he thought of the whole idea. "Nick, you're sick, really sick. Besides, you can't go out in this weather! Who's gonna take you home?"

Everything that Jeff said made plenty of sense, in retrospect, but Nick wasn't quite sure. It was true, he probably wouldn't be able to find a ride home, and the thought that he might worry Jeff by leaving weighed heavily on Nick's mind.

"I'm not for sure, okay?" Nick snapped back, feeling the full extent of just how tired and irritated he really was; he pinched the bridge of his nose to fight an oncoming headache, not bothering to look at the half-worried, half-angry expression on his best friend's face.

"I mean, my _mom_ will take you home tomorrow, if you really want; your parents don't have to come."

Nick sighed and fisted the bed sheets. "I'm not worried about my parents coming. Why would I be? I just don't like hospitals."

It seemed that Nick Duval was making up quite a few lies that night.

**A.N.: A bit shorter than usual, but I wanted to just get this up. Yeah, yeah, Niff will never get their alone time. Also, do you think that Nick should leave the hospital (and risk getting sick from the snow), or stay (and face his father)? I'd love to hear what you guys think, and I hope that you enjoyed the chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N.: Okay, so one review isn't bad at all! In fact, I thank you kindly! And, since I only got one person's review, I _have_ to go with it (and it's the opinion I wanted, actually). As usual, I still don't own GLEE and am not Ryan Murphy.**

Biting his lip in deep thought, Nick finally made a decision; he knew perfectly well what he _didn't_ want to do, but unfortunately, it was the only decision. He instinctively looked over at his jacket, motioning for Jeff to get it for him. The blonde did so, and Nick rummaged through the pocket for his cell phone. Looking through his list of contacts, he settled on his mother's cell phone number, preferring to use that rather than the house phone. Like always, it rang three times before the organized woman picked up.

"Hello?" she asked. She usually greeted with a formal address, but seeing as it was her son, didn't quite see the need to.

"Hey, Mom, I'm in the-"

"Who is it?" a gruff voice asked, still managing to sound refined, much like a man of high social status would. Nick could feel the involuntary hitch in his mother's voice.

The woman chuckled gently. "Oh, it's just Jessica."

_Jessica_? How did she even _begin_ to confuse her own son's obviously male voice with her fellow book-clubber, Jessica?

"Mom, I'm . . . at the hospital, and I need you to pick me up tomorrow. Or tonight. But I can't get home on my own. I had an allergic reaction and the doctor said I was dehydrated and exhausted, I guess." He nearly began to start rambling until his mom began to do her usual giggle, much like his own.

"Oh, dear, I told you not to forget the cookies for the PTA meeting. Well, I suppose I'll just bake some myself and send them along. How's little Jerry doing?"

Jerry was Jessica's son, who was in the same class as Nick's younger sister, Jane; that's why the two mothers attended the PTA meetings. But what did this have to do with anything at all? "Mom, are you even hearing me? I need you to come get me. I'm really sorry, I just-"

"Of _course_ I'll drop them over tomorrow. What time do you want them?"

Oh. Nick tried to keep a slight smile from playing on his lips; sometimes he wondered who was the smarter spouse, and he often decided that it was his mother, who kept a simple stay-at-home mother sort of job. He realized then what his mother was doing. She was hearing him, of course she was, but she didn't want Nick's father to hear.

But how, then, was she going to manage slipping out of the house and then miraculously coming home with her obviously sick son. Then again, James Duval was a man who, unlike other people, seemed to grow angrier the more he mulled over a situation; it was probably a better idea to immediately drop the situation on quickly then ease into the moment.

"Jessica?" the woman's voice sounded a little worried, like she knew that Nick was playing through scenarios in his mind. He was _just_ like his mother.

"Eight, if you don't mind," he replied; then, after realizing how much of a morning person his father _wasn't_, he decided to change that to a prompt, "Or nine."

Another soft chuckle from his mother. "Nine it is. And _don't_ try going out in this storm, dear, trying to get ingredients."

This scolding translated to, "Don't even _think_ about discharging yourself."

This time, Nick allowed himself to smile. "Thanks, Mom. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess." With that, he pressed the red button his cell phone, ending the call. Nick passed the phone back to Jeff, who looked as though there was nothing strange about the conversation. And, when one thought about the way Mrs. Duval handled the situation, it really wasn't that bizarre at all.

On the other end of the call, Natalie Duval turned her cell phone, her hand shaking. She wondered just how she had managed to keep up that conversation without fully freaking out. Her son was in the hospital and she knew, she _knew_ if James found out, he wouldn't wait until morning to head out for the hospital, despite the terrible weather.

She was a good mother (or she hoped she was), and Natalie wanted to do anything she could to keep her children safe; not that she worried about Jane - she was the favored child, even if she was the younger sibling. Nick never quite seemed to meet up to some invisible standard that her husband had pre-established since she had told James that she was pregnant. And Nick was such a talented boy, but that really didn't seem to mean much to him; Nick was gay. And no respected man in _this_ community would have a son that was _gay_.

The woman placed her head in her hands, taking a seat at the kitchen table. There was something so wonderfully unique about Nick that no one else ever seemed to see; he was smart and resourceful, but that wasn't it - he was kind, so unlike his father.

And so unlike his mother.

Natalie wondered how any woman who could ever _claim_ to love her children would let them be harmed in front of their own eyes. She despised the idea, couldn't even begin to think that anyone could ever have the gull to. And yet, here she was, knowing full well that no matter what James decided (wrong or not), she would choose him over Nick any day.

She tried to be secretively loving, but Natalie was certain that Nick held some form of resentment for her not trying to stop what went on.

But how could she?

She owed _everything_ to James, coming from the poorest family in Westerville; he was one of the richest, and they just happened to meet one day when he came into the coffee shop that she worked at. He was twenty-four; she was seventeen. The two had immediately hit it off, instantly clicking and meeting more and more, coffee shop aside. Eventually, they wound up in bed together, and she, being the idiot that she was, managed to get herself pregnant. Natalie was young, she didn't know what to do or how to go about the whole thing.

And telling him was the easy part. He was mad, obviously, because that meant that he would have to tell his family, or keep it a secret.

He chose the latter.

It wasn't until she had already given birth and still kept her pregnancy (and now child), hidden that he decided to marry her. Then, he decided to be wonderfully thoughtful and "adopt" Nick because she had been promiscuous before, even if Nick looked so much like James. (She knew that people knew, and she still maintained that he hired someone to keep the whole situation under wraps).

James seemed a hero; he was a wonderful patron, and no one could ever find a sweeter man. That allowed him to easily get a political position so quickly. And, when Jane was born, they merely chalked it up to a wonderful miracle. Naturally, Nick was resented by his father without even doing anything. Because he had nearly ruined anything and everything.

She wondered how no one could even be stupid enough to believe his lie, or even never catch on. But maybe people did and just chose not to say anything.

Natalie was worried, naturally, though a part of her didn't believe that she even had a right to be. Yes, she was Nick's mother, but she would never truly be a _mom_. Not in her opinion, at least. She didn't deserve it; she knew it well.

And, of course, she realized that she'd have to tell James in the morning, but he might be in so much shock that he wouldn't even have a real chance to process the whole fiasco.

Then, in her mind, she finally wondered how she never realized that she hadn't ask _why_ her son was even in the hospital.

Elsewhere, on a street two lanes down from the Duval residence, Burt Hummel came to an abrupt stop at the Thompson home. The tall Warbler got out of the car, thanking Burt for dropping him off. The older man gave a grunt in response and motioned him forward. "Don't slip on the ice," he called in vain, as David nearly took a terrible spill.

"I told you I needed to go home!" Trent whined in the back (Burt refused to let him in the passenger seat), "but you saved me until last!"

Burt wanted to laugh in the irony and nearly told Trent to stick a sock in it, but he felt that that might be a bit harsh.

Finn, who was sitting beside Burt, turned around instead. "Dude, we're saving the best for last!" he smiled, trying to channel Kurt Hummel in an awkward attempt to flatter the distressed Warbler. Ironically, this unconventional pep talk pleased the teen as he settled down into his seat.

"When you put it like that," he trailed, smirking lightly.

Burt rolled his eyes, turning down a street where Kurt's car was parked in a yard; it was the Anderson's property, emphasized by the large house that was actually more akin to a mansion. Only, Kurt and Blaine weren't outside talking.

No, they were inside Kurt's car; and Burt wanted to know exactly why. He parked his car a little ways down, getting out of the car with a huff. Sure, he felt bad for Trent, but his desperate pleas were unfortunately falling on deaf ears. Burt walked down the driveway, knocking on Blaine's window gently; he heard his son squeak and Blaine make a strange grunting noise.

The car was turned back on, and the window on Blaine's side rolled down, revealing a very irritated Kurt and a quite disgruntled Blaine. He didn't look mad, mostly surprised. However, Kurt was not one to be intruded upon. "Dad, what was that for? I thought you were some serial murderer! Don't do that!" the countertenor cried, running a hand through his hair. His usually perfect coif had since been forgotten.

"What were you doing?" Burt asked without hesitation. Instead of looking at his son, the man turned his attention to his boyfriend, who squirmed a bit in his seat.

"We were talki-" Kurt began, but his father held a hand up to silence him.

"Save it; I wanna hear what _he_ has to say about this." Burt's eyebrow was raised in a quizzical sort of way, much like Kurt when something either interested him or he wanted to pretend to be completely innocent about something; Blaine never realized how much alike the two really were.

"Well, Mr. Hummel," Blaine began, gulping lightly, "I was going to get out, but then I realized that I hadn't said good bye to Kurt yet, and-"

Kurt cleared his throat gently. "You _can't_ say good night without a good night kiss, Dad."

"And I mean it when I say that I was going to stop at just one, but it was really cold out, and he's really warm, and-" Blaine stopped once he realized that Burt had since then stopped listening to the boy's explanation (or rather, excuse of the situation).

Sometimes, that boy said _wa_y too much. But, and Burt had to give him just a little bit of credit, he never once did say that Kurt initiated anything. And, in a father's handbook, he couldn't say that that wasn't just a little bit impressive. But only a little.

Kurt snapped his fingers lightly, gaining his father's attention. "All right, Dad, we said good night. Sorry, Blaine, but I guess Dad's going to make you go out into the freezing cold and into his large, empty house; but you don't _have_ to make him leave, if you're nice enough, and I know you are." The countertenor blinked his eyelashes slightly, relying on his adorable (and Blaine loved how cute he was), charm to convince Burt to allow them just a few more moments.

Unfortunately, Burt Hummel was an unbreakable wall that not even his darling son could waver. "Good night, Blake."

"Blaine, sir."

Burt made a grunt of agreement, as if to say that he agreed with Blaine but really didn't care what he had to say. With a soft sigh, Blaine got out of the car, picking up his backpack as he did so. He smiled lightly at his boyfriend, ignoring said boyfriend's intimidating father, of whom was standing right behind him. The two gazed at each other for a few moments, and, allowing their gaze to linger, Blaine pretended to accidentally brush his hand against Kurt's, and Kurt did nothing to stop him.

A low snort from behind the couple forced Blaine to get up and start down the driveway. "I'll see you . . . soon!" he called behind him. Because, really, Blaine wasn't quite sure whether or not he was going to drive down to Lima the next day or simply wait until Monday; he was heavily leaning towards the former.

Kurt waved in return, a light blush dusting his already pink cheeks. He smiled to himself, and Burt wasn't quite sure whether or not he had seen his son look quite so happy in all his life. "Okay, you'd better get Trent home before he has a coronary."

That was certainly true. Burt took this as a cue to leave his son and retreat back to his own vehicle, still ignoring Trent now _begging_ Burt to go as fast as possible. This, in turn, was retorted (by Finn), with something akin to "Dude, go the speed limit; you don't wanna hit anyone." Surprisingly enough, Finn turned out to be a pretty reliable wingman in the passenger seat; irritating at times, but for the most part (and this was so unlike Kurt), he kept his cool.

Eventually, once the nearly-in-tears Warbler was dropped off at his house, Burt began the long, _too_ long, drive back to Lima, first making sure that his son was still behind them and not at Blaine's.

An irritated text to Finn implied that he was, while Finn replied that Kurt shouldn't really be texting while driving a motor vehicle.

The night was now completely fallen upon the trio, as morning was soon approaching, and the storm hadn't held up any. And, while Burt didn't know the kid farther than he could throw him (and he was a tiny fellow), he hoped that that Nick kid was still safe.

And he was. After the doctor came in, eyes bright with curiosity, Nick informed him that he'd be staying the night in the hospital, if that was alright.

The doctor chuckled at the last part. "I'm very glad that you made up your mind, Mr. Duval," he said, "have you called your parents yet?"

Nick nodded. "Yes, sir."

The older man nodded and said his goodbyes for the night, recommending Nick (and his friend in the chair), to get some well-deserved rest. The teens nodded and watched carefully as the doctor left the room, Nick immediately giving a small yawn once the door clicked.

He didn't quite realize how truly exhausted he was until now; or how much his body ached. Truth be told, he felt positively horrible. Nick looked over at Jeff, who seemed to be nodding off at certain intervals, even if he was trying so hard not to fall asleep. The brunette smiled and told his friend that it was fine if he fell asleep, that he wouldn't be too lonely; Jeff only offered a small smile in response.

"You, too," he advised. "Listen, do you still want to talk about . . ." he trailed off as he realized just how tired his already-sick friend looked. "We can talk in the morning, you know. I already texted my parents and asked the doctors, so I'm staying for the night. It's like a sleepover."

The two had had plenty of sleepovers in their many years of friendship, so why did this one feel so different? Nick was certain that it had something to do with that overhanging question that the two of them both kept their minds wrapped around. Neither wanted to bring it up, but neither wanted to keep it quite silent, either.

Though who wanted to talk about it more was quite a hard call, but it seemed to be leaning more on Jeff's part. The blonde wanted to clear things up between the two, whether it be admitting his love or completely denying it altogether (if this was the case, Jeff would say that Nick had only been dreaming). But he knew that Nick's well-being came first in all this and refused to put his selfish needs to get a clear mind over health.

"Seriously, you look awful. I don't mind; I'm not going to sleep much anyway." Truth be told, Jeff would be completely content in just watching Nick and making sure that his chest might keep rising and falling during the entire night, but his nerves would keep him up, even if he _did_ want to sleep.

Nick bit his lip in contemplation, that habitual way he always did when he wanted something but didn't want to bother someone else with his needs. Jeff loved the way he did that, always letting his feelings show right on his face. But now, it was pretty hard to tell _just_ what he was thinking, only that he wasn't sure what to say.

"You've really looked out for me today," Nick mentioned off-handedly, as if he didn't realize that Jeff had been practically freaking out, whilst Kurt had kept everything under control. "I hate to ask you to stay the night, but with the snow . . ." Nick pulled his blanket higher up, a cold chill overtaking his small frame. He wasn't this fragile, he decided, he was fine.

"I'll still be here," Jeff assured, doing his very best to sound as convincing as possible, trying to convince himself in the process. He knew that he wasn't sure of himself, but for some reason, Nick was. He put all of his trust into his best friend, just like Jeff always knew what he was doing.

When, in all reality, he was merely taking a shot in the dark.

Nick yawned again, closing his eyes for a bit longer this time; Jeff could tell he wanted nothing more to sleep, but a part of him thought that maybe Nick _couldn't_ fall asleep.

"Did your mom say anything? You seemed a bit worried on the phone." Of course Jeff had noticed, but he just didn't want Nick to know that he did.

"No, she was fine with picking me up," Nick answered.

Jeff nodded in response. "Hey, I'm gonna go and get a drink of water," he announced getting up from his spot. He had a plan and, if all should go according to plan (which it always did), he should come back and-

As expected, Nick was lying in his bed, already asleep.

**A.N.: Next chapter, the Duvals will get involved, and we may finally have an honest-to-goodness Niff moment! Also, the doctor in this and the former chapter was actually a doctor of mine growing up, and he is _the nicest_ doctor ever! I hope you enjoyed!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N.: Positive reviews _always_ make my day! I tell you, this story makes me so happy (especially since I apparently write Niff well), and I hope to continue living up to expectations. As of today, Ryan Murphy has not yet passed on the rights of GLEE yet!**

Natalia woke up at five in the morning, her fears keeping the better of her; it was actually a lie to say that she had woken up, because she had been tossing around in bed the entire night. Somehow, James still managed to sleep peacefully on the spot beside her.

To keep up the facade, she baked a fresh batch of cookies, putting them onto a wonderfully beautiful tray for looks. Then, once it was seven, she took a shower and fixed her hair in a simple sort of style, gently curling her shoulder-length blonde hair - how she envied her husband's dark locks. At seven-thirty, she trudged softly into the bedroom, gingerly shaking James' shoulder. "Sweetie, it's time to get up. After you take your shower, I need to talk to you about something."

The man grunted, pushing himself up from the bed, running a hand through his perfectly cut hair. He looked up at his wife, slowly greeting her. Natalie had already laid out all the clothes, opening the bathroom door for her husband.

Walking back into the kitchen, Natalie was quite surprised to see Jane sitting at the table, pouring herself a bowl of cereal. "Morning," the young blonde said, not looking quite awake. "What are the cookies for?" she asked, eyeing them with a look (if she were older), of lust.

"For your brother, dear," Natalie answered.

The two sat by the table, not talking, each deep in thought. Natalie had initially excused herself for a cup of coffee and then came back. Finally, Jane opened her mouth, ready to ask the question that had since been bothering her. "Where's Nick?" she asked; her brother was always prompt to the breakfast table.

"He's at a friend's house."

"I thought he was just going to a party at Wes'" Jane noted, seeming quite older than her twelve-year-old form would show. Next year, she'd be enrolling at Crawford County and could hardly wait, because that meant that she could see her brother every now and again (that, and she couldn't _wait_ to embarrass him).

Natalie, who had been in the middle of her drink, nearly choked on it. "Um, dear, he's at the hospital."

"Who's at the hospital?" James asked, coming into the dining room, dressed completely. He bent over to give his daughter a quick kiss on the top of her head.

Now, Natalie could hardly even think. She had planned on telling James right when they got there, so that he'd still be in the initial shock and couldn't really comprehend what was going on. Now, she wasn't quite sure what to do; but they said the truth always helped (though she wasn't quite sure). "Nick is, James."

The large man sat down with a thump, a low growl escaping his lips. "Nat, what are you _talking_ about?" he paused, then stopped. "How long have you known?"

"Yesterday."

Natalie wasn't quite sure what color her husband was seeing, but she was certain it was some shade of red. The man gripped his coffee cup tightly, his knuckles turning white. "It better not have something to do with-"

"No!" the woman retorted, feeling much too bold for her own good, "he had an allergic reaction. And he's tired and dehydrated, and-"

"It's that club he's in!" James roared; Jane got up from the table and ran up the stairs. "Now we have to go _get_ him from the hospital, and he's going to miss school, and you know his grades drop when that happens!" Of course, just like James to only think about grades and colleges for his _sick_ son."

Natalie wanted to yell, she wanted _so much_ to tell her husband how important their son was to her, that he deserved better than to be treated like a burden. And she _knew_ that's how Nick felt about himself. "Please, darling, let's just pick him up from the hospital. Then we can decide what to do from there." She kept her voice calm, much calmer than usual.

James only seethed more. "Fine, we'll pick him up and let him stay home for _two whole weeks_ so that he feels so much better by the time he has no chance of getting into college!"

There was no way of getting a point across with that man. Natalie only rested her head in her hands and sighed deeply. "He'll be fine by Monday, I'm sure."

James picked up his car keys from the key rack and shrugged on a heavy jacket; he looked over at his wife (only a title, not a sympathetic sort of thing). She followed and pulled on her expensive peacoat, hating the way she felt - it was guilt mixed with regret sprinkled with fear.

After telling Jane where they would be, the couple started on the road, James drumming his fingers irritably against the steering wheel. The roads were still icy, but definitely not as much as they were before. Snow was piled high against the edges of driveways, the trails of sidewalk that had been shoveled out creating a stark difference. It was funny, if not for the fact that Natalie's mind was swimming with horrible thoughts that she couldn't quite sort out; she hated not being able to sort her thoughts.

The hospital parking lot had been shoveled, and as much as Natalie liked to believe that James might possibly slip on the ice, he didn't. She, however, had to make sure that her boots didn't glide across the pavement, that would undeniably end in an embarrassing crash.

When the pair got inside, they found a pretty-looking receptionist at the front desk, twirling her hair absentmindedly; instead of asking James (who would flirt incessantly), Natalie marched up to the front desk, asking for a "Nicholas Duval."

The receptionist, a blonde girl who didn't look like she really wanted to be there, retorted, saying that they only had a "Nick Duval."

Fighting back the urge to make a huge scene, Natalie thanked the unhelpful girl and returned to her seat with James. In a few minutes (and it wasn't long enough), Nick walked out of a room, fully dressed in his uniform from the previous night. He looked as if he had just taken a shower because his hair was practically sticking to his face. James was the first to rise from his seat, and Natalie could see the inward sigh from her son.

But there was something peculiar about the scene - behind Nick was another boy, a blonde that was significantly taller than Nick, and the pair seemed to be rather close.

"How are you feeling?" Natalie asked, hoping (or rather, praying), that James would say nothing in the company of this other boy; she _really_ didn't want any rumors, true or not, to be spread about her husband, and more importantly, her family.

Nick nodded, the way he did when he sized down a situation. "Fine." He refused to look either of his parents in the eye, a guilty look overtaking him.

James made a low grunting noise in mock concern. "Are you sure? You don't need to spend another three weeks here?" Natalie silently cursed as she watched her son gulp down a sudden outburst and force out a faux smile; he had so much more self-restraint that she might ever have.

"No, I'm feeling good, Dad." The way he said it was as if there was nothing odd about his family, as if they were a perfectly happy family with nothing bad in the world, and _nothing_ could ever be wrong with _Nick Duval's_ father; he was a politician, after all. One would think of all the stories in the United States about politicians, people might be a bit more suspicious.

This answer didn't seem to please the dark-haired man as he sized up the blonde friend. "Did you hire someone to take care of you?"

The blonde was taken back by this statement, biting his lip in response. Nick merely laughed lightly. "No, Jeff wanted to stay for the night because it was so bad out."

Natalie supposed, once the name had been said, that she had heard mentions of the name 'Jeff' come from Nick's mouth every now and again; and now, there was a face to accompany the famous name. He seemed nice and down-to-earth.

James began to frown. "Well, does he need a ride home, too?" Jeff shook his head quickly, catching Nick off guard.

"No, I already called my mom. While you were taking a shower," he told Nick, who had seemed slightly curious before the second half of the statement.

"You two weren't in there together?"

Natalie made an audible gasp at the same time as her son; Jeff, on the other hand, made a choking sort of sound that sound strangely like a chuckle. "No, sir, we're not dating. Besides, he's _way_ too smart for me." Jeff didn't seem to notice the look of shock pass Nick's face and another face of endearment replace the surprise; they weren't dating, not yet.

"I'm sure you could find someone smarter in a public school," James shot back. Any bit of praise that was _not_ directed towards James Duval couldn't really be considered praise at all, could it?

The blonde still kept his cool. "No, Nick's the one that helps me with my math. And science. And especially English."

"Is that why he doesn't get good grades? He's helping you?" Natalie bit the inside of her mouth to keep a growl from escaping; she knew very well that her son got excellent grades, but he apparently needed perfect grades to be considered a true Duval.

This time, Jeff seemed a bit more irritated. "Well, he keeps my grades passing."

"What college are you applying to?" James asked, properly prepared to argue with a high school student over what colleges were a better choice and was fully ready to compare with Nick, as if he wasn't standing right in front of the two.

"Stop!" Nick said, a little loudly for Natalie's taste. James stopped talking with Jeff abruptly and turned to face his son with a stern look written on his face. "Can we just go home now?"

"Keep that up, and you'll walk home," James answered coldly; the coldest part was that he was serious. Nick shot a look to Jeff that was something akin to apology. He didn't want his friend, obviously his best friend, to see his father in such a light. He, like Natalie, liked to believe that if they pretended that James didn't act a certain way and wasn't too harsh with his words and actions, wasn't. Unfortunately, the various bruises running up Nick's arm (strategically covered by that useful uniform), seemed to disagree with this theory.

"I'm sorry," Nick uttered softly, defeated; he realized that there was no way to argue with his father, that it'd only make a situation twenty times worse.

Jeff snorted. "What are you apologizing for?" he asked, unimpressed with Nick's parents (and Natalie knew that she was included in the disappointment). "You didn't do anything wrong." He didn't go on to say that James had done something wrong, only that Nick hadn't.

The older Duval said nothing in return; he just turned around to leave through the revolving doors. Natalie followed and looked back to her son to accompany her. Nick mumbled a quiet and meaningful thanks to his friend and left with his mother, leaving the blonde to himself.

Jeff couldn't have been more scared; not for him, but for Nick. He dreaded Monday, when his friend would be absent, still at home recovering, still at home with that sorry excuse for a father. Sure, the man looked like Nick (except for height), but the two couldn't be more different. And Mrs. Duval, she didn't say a lot, but anyone could tell that there were a million or so things running through her mind, but she was just too afraid to say what she really thought about her husband. Jeff couldn't blame her; the man was intimidating. He watched the Duval car as far as his eyes would allow before it turned a corner, disappearing from sight; he could only hope that Nick didn't do anything too stupid.

"So you ate some walnuts," James said, a statement and not a question. From the back seat, Nick nodded meekly. "And then you got tired and thirsty. And then you had to go to the hospital and sleep in a really comfy bed with some pretty hospital gowns." The man's voice was intensifying, and Nick was cringing.

"Yes, sir." He didn't deny it, because in his father's strange mind, that's exactly what had happened.

"But it was too cold out, and you couldn't go home," his father was making mock crooning noises. "So then Daddy and Mommy had to come get you."

Nick refused to answer that accusation; his father was _certainly_ not his 'Daddy'. Instead, he put his head down. "I'm going to school on Monday," Nick said. He couldn't miss school because his already-low grades wouldn't allow one day absent from school.

"Good, because you're going."

The small brunette nodded, ignoring his body's protests, the screaming ache in his body that just wanted to sleep in bed for a few days and maybe more. "You shouldn't have said those things to Jeff," he ventured, saying exactly how he felt. It was one thing to talk that way to one's own son, but not their best friend.

"Why, are you two dating?"

Nick knew how his father felt about homosexuals. And he didn't _dare_ mention what Jeff had said to him the previous night; it was suicide. Or murder. Possibly both.

"No, but he's my best friend," Nick answered. "And you shouldn't have said anything."

The car stopped in the Duval driveway, James' hands resting angrily on the steering wheel. "Get in the house and stay in the living room," the older man hissed through gritted teeth. Nick did as told for the most part. He got out of the car, pulling his backpack with him. And, like instructed, he walked inside the house, staying in the living room for all of two seconds. But then rebellion caught its wonderful hold and urged the teen to simply trudge up the stairs. At this moment, he didn't think that his body could hurt any worse than at that moment, so he really didn't see much need to just _wait_ to get hit.

No, he spited his father, forcing him up a flight of stairs and into his son's bedroom. Nick looked up from his bed, willing him to do something. It wasn't that he thought his father _wouldn't_ or _couldn't_ hit him; he was quite certain that a nasty bruise would come from this rebellion.

He was simply being mean.

And, like expected, a bruised jaw and purpling marks on the side of both his shoulders nearly caused Nick to laugh, perhaps out of irony, perhaps out of insanity. James stared in disbelief once Nick lost the battle of silence to laughter and emitted a chuckle. "What's funny?" the man demanded.

"Me," Nick admitted, shaking his head. "Look at me. I'm short, skinny, bruised, and sick. On top of all that, I'm gay. You couldn't have _paid_ someone to be a worse son."

And Nick knew he was right; he didn't think, for even a second, that his father was a bad father, only troubled; troubled because he had been cursed with a perfectly horrible son who couldn't do a single thing right.

James stared in shock at his son's epiphany; he had said everything the man had harbored resentment towards his son for years without even acting shocked or surprise. Nick could tell when he wasn't wanted, could tell when he was nothing but a hassle to hide.

But even James Duval had never simply said it like it was common sense.

"Dad, I'm going to take a nap because I'm also rebellious," Nick smirked, earning himself another slap. Nonetheless, he kicked off his shoes and looked his father plainly in the eyes.

And, after a well-aimed punch and the declaration from his father that Nick was a complete and utter waste of human life, Nick curled himself up under his covers and drifted off into the most peaceful sleep that he had ever had in an entire lifetime.

Because for once, good or bad, Nick was finally sure of who he was.

**A.N.: Okay, this is pretty much bordering angst, but I promise that Nick will get better after Jeff gives him a good talking-to on Monday. Yeah, he'll probably have a sick spell, but nothing big. Sorry if this chapter was just too much; I promise more Klaine for the weekend! I hope you all thoroughly enjoyed, and feel free to drop a review! Also, Happy Thanksgiving!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N.: Okay, so I got some majorly wonderful reviews for my last chapter! And I have also been asked to update this story because it's "the best fic ever". That literally made my day. I am not Ryan Murphy, but I am watching the GLEE Project marathon. That has to count for something. Unfortunately, I'm going out with friends tonight, so I may not finish this chapter before Saturday. So sorry!**

Blaine wasn't quite sure why he was going to Lima at ten o'clock in the morning, even _if_ he had seen Kurt only nine hours before. The roads were a lot clearer, and he wanted nothing more than to make sure that his boyfriend had been fine for the night.

Pulling into the driveway of the Hudmel household, Blaine was pretty shocked to see Burt shoveling the driveway, whipping his head up.

It suddenly got much too hot for comfort. The lead Warbler shut his car off and got out, waving sheepishly to his boyfriend's father. "Good morning, Mr. Hummel," he practically squeaked out, knowing just how idiotic he really sounded.

A grunt from the man was all Blaine got in response. "Do you know how early it is?" Burt asked in an irritated tone; Blaine cringed.

"Yes, sir. It's ten. In the morning." The lead Warbler began to feel much too uncomfortable for his own liking. "I wanted to know if Kurt's awake yet. If he's not, I can go home and come back later." Had it not been for Burt putting his hand up in protest, Blaine would've continued rambling about how easy it would be for him to come back and forth plenty of times.

"He's inside with his brother eating breakfast. You're devoted." It was a statement void of amazement or disappointment; it was simply a statement.

Blaine nodded in thanks and practically ran inside, skidding slightly on the ice as he went. When he came to a stop and nearly knocked on the door until Burt yelled at him to just go inside. It felt awkward, yes, but he did so. Upon entering, Kurt and Finn looked up from their breakfast. Kurt dropped his spoonful of whole-grain cereal and rose from his chair. "Blaine!" he nearly cried as he ran up to his boyfriend. Finn only grunted in a sort of greeting but continued eating.

"Good morning," Blaine said in his most gentlemanly manner, dropping to a low bow. He smiled as his boyfriend began to giggle in the most adorable way that Blaine had ever heard. He rose to his full height (which wasn't quite as tall as his boyfriend), and pecked Kurt on the cheek.

There was a slight gagging noise from Finn, and Kurt shot daggers at his stepbrother. "Finn, shut up! I don't make fun of you and Quinn!"

Finn only made a pouting look and put his spoon into his cereal as some sort of odd rebellion. "Until you start being nice to me, I won't eat another bite of my cereal!" The tall teen took a wistful glance at his nearly full bowl of Captain Crunch cereal.

Kurt did not seem moved. "I suppose you'll have to start fasting, Mr. Hudson." The way the two acted seemed like they might really _be_ brothers.

Watching the spat between the other teens, Blaine couldn't help but let a small smile cross his face. Unfortunately, he was too caught up with watching the two that he didn't notice them stop and began to stare at him. He also didn't notice his boyfriend break into a smile. "Blaine," Kurt said softly at first. "Blaine, I'm pregnant."

For a few seconds, Blaine didn't even hear anything. After a few moments, however, the statement began to sink into his head. "Wait, what?"

Finn burst into obnoxious laughter, and even Kurt was chuckling lightly at his boyfriend's confused face. "That's not even possible, and you know it!" Blaine exclaimed, trying his best to look upset, even if what Kurt said _was_ pretty funny, in retrospect.

"Sorry, Blaine, but you weren't paying attention to me," Kurt said, coming back to his serious mode. "And you _know_ that you have to pay attention to me. You messed up." And, for a moment, Blaine was quite certain that he really _had_ messed up with his boyfriend in less than fifteen minutes.

Kurt's stepbrother shook his head in a disapproving sort of way. "Dude, you did bad."

Blaine's eyes widened in slight surprise. "Really? Kurt, I didn't mean to, I swear. I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you with coffee or-"

Now the Hudmel boys were nearly on the floor laughing. "Sweetie, you are officially whipped!" Kurt giggled, wiping a tear from his eye. "But you're sweet."

And, if his boyfriend wasn't so cute, Blaine might've been mad. Thankfully, Kurt was _the_ most adorable person in the history of Lima, Ohio (and possibly the world), which meant that there were no problems at the present moment. "Thank you. So, was it fun getting home?" Blaine asked, motioning towards the large pile of snow in the front yard; Burt was still shoveling a path in the ground.

Kurt rolled his eyes and smiled in a supposed-to-be excited sort of way. "Oh, _loads_. Dad was certainly having a grand old time, too."

The tallest teen in the room opened his mouth in protest. "No, he was totally using every cuss world in the book! That's more than _I_ know!" Finn looked extremely upset with Burt's apparent outburst, while Kurt just seemed a pretty passive.

"He does that. Get used to it."

Burt chose that moment to walk inside the house, thoroughly covered with snow. "Only when there are other idiots on the road! It wasn't my fault."

"Uh-huh," Kurt retorted.

Blaine began to whip out his cell phone, dialing Nick's number. "Hey, Kurt, do you wanna check how Nick's doing?" he asked, immediately gaining his boyfriend's attention.

"Put it on speaker!" Kurt cried, running over to Blaine's side and leaving his father behind. The phone rang a few times, before a very tired greeting was heard; Nick sounded like he had just woken up (or just gotten home), and Blaine felt pretty bad for waking him up. "How are you feeling?" the countertenor asked.

"Okay, we're on speaker," Nick noted, "But I'm feeling a lot better, thanks. Have you talked to Jeff yet? I haven't gotten to talk to him since an hour ago."

Kurt made a sorry sort of squeak. "You _just_ got home? Oh my - it was Blaine's fault, I swear! We're really sorry; you didn't even get to slee-"

The brunette on the other line began to laugh. "It's not a big deal. I wasn't even _going_ to bed yet. I think I'm going to get some breakfast soon, though. But how are you two doing? Was it fun getting home?" For some reason, _everyone_ liked asking how Burt's driving in the snow and ice went. The older man gave an irritated grunt. "Oh, sorry, Mr. Hummel."

"No problem, kid."

Blaine put the phone closer to his mouth. "I can have Kurt call Jeff, if you want." On cue, Kurt took his cell phone out from his pocket and called Jeff before Nick could even protest. "Put in on speaker."

"Hello?"

"Hey, Jeff!" Kurt chirped. "Were you trying to sleep? So was Nick."

Jeff made a surprised gasp. "You're talking to Nick?" the blonde asked. "Wait, how are you even managing to do that, if you're talking to me." He paused, then in a deadpan asked, "Blaine came over to visit you, then he called Nick, and you called me. Seriously?"

Blaine smirked and took Kurt's phone. "That's about it." The countertenor huffed heavily and grabbed his boyfriend's phone in retaliation. "You still there?" he asked Nick.

"Yeah. Did I hear Blaine say that Jeff was on the phone?"

It was quite impossible _not_ to tell that the two teens were so in love with each other and were so oblivious to their own feelings; even _Blaine_ could see this. "We could do a three-way," he said simply, not quite understanding why Finn, Kurt, and Burt all looked surprised. Especially Kurt and Burt. But mostly Burt. "Call. A three-way call. We can just put yours on speaker and then call Nick."

The countertenor nodded, quite impressed with his boyfriend. "Okay, Jeff, we're going to do a three-way call so you can talk to Nick."

Blaine was explaining the same thing to Nick. "When Kurt calls, answer, okay?" An uncertain agreement from the other end prompted Blaine to end the call, motioning for Kurt to put Jeff on hold.

To be honest, the process itself was probably a little too complicated for four teenagers to find a way to talk; but it worked, and Kurt glared at Finn and Burt to leave the room. The teen ran upstairs, saying he was going to call Quinn from _his_ cell phone, and Burt said that he was going to look after the shop and make sure that it was not too cold or icy, or something.

"All right, we're good," Kurt said finally, holding the cell phone out for Blaine to talk, as well. "Are you both there?"

"Nick?" Jeff asked, his voice unsure.

"Yeah?" came the almost-timid answer. Kurt and Blaine looked to each other with matching smiles on their faces; the countertenor put a finger up to silence his boyfriend, his eyes seeming to say something like, 'Let them talk this out between them'.

Blaine could only stare at Kurt like he was the most romantic person in the entire world; and, to be honest, he probably was.

"How are you feeling?" the blonde asked, "You sound really tired." Kurt rolled his eyes as they heard an audible sigh from Nick, most likely.

"Yeah, I'm fine. And no, I'm not tired. I'm not going to bed because I don't feel like it, not because I can't! Who isn't allowed _not_ to go to bed?" Nick snapped; in all the weeks that Kurt had known him (or Blaine, who had known him for years), neither had heard Nick Duval yell at _anyone_. Ever. Both could hear the catch in the brunette's voice, the way he seemed to immediately regret what he had said.

Jeff was silent for a few moments. "Okay," he said simply; the blonde was patient and refused to yell at his friend, especially since Jeff had seen who Mr. Duval really was.

"Listen, I'm just . . . I was going to say 'tired.' But I just said that I'm not. I'm sorry, I-" Nick stopped abruptly, a small gasp escaping from him. "I have to go," he said quickly, ending the call abruptly. When the three other teens heard a small click, Kurt looked to Blaine curiously, who only shrugged his shoulders in a similar sort of confusion; they both knew that something was definitely wrong. They just didn't know _what_.

"Did he just get off?" they heard Jeff asked, his voice worried; the blonde may have seemed like an idiot most of the time, but he knew more about Nick than any other Warbler (or any boyfriend), could ever _hope_ to know. Which is why the two were so perfect for each other.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. I guess he did."

"Hey, Blaine," Jeff started, getting the lead Warbler's attention easily, "I know something's wrong with Nick, but he won't tell me what's wrong. He's been acting really weird lately, and I _know_ that it has something to do with his dad. You should've seen that guy today at the hospital. He was making fun of Nick _right in front of his face_. And Nick didn't even do anything! He _never_ doesn't do anything!"

Despite the misuse of grammar, Blaine had to admit that Jeff was right - Nick never took anything sitting down. He always fought for his cause, even if he knew that it was a losing matter. "He's not going to tell us anything, then. _You_ have to get him to tell you," Blaine responded, biting his lip in thought.

"But I don't know what to say. I mean, he might get mad at me for even asking, like he did just now. He kinda freaked out on me." And, no matter how Jeff sounded, Blaine _knew_ how much that the outburst from Nick hurt the blonde. Friends never yell at each other, and when they do, it always hurts at least a little bit. That's why the fight between him and Kurt was so intense. (Even _if_ Blaine knew which of the two was in the right during that argument - and it wasn't Blaine).

Kurt took the phone from his boyfriend. "Listen, you have to wait for him to talk about it. Nick won't tell you anything if he's not ready to say it himself. You can't force anyone to talk about anything. Still, that really worries me; his dad's a politician!"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, our families have dinners together a lot. My dad wants us to be on good terms." Kurt looked over, and it was obvious (from the way that Jeff was), that he would've been staring at Blaine as well.

"I know that Nick won't talk about anything with me. But that's not what worries me. Well, it actually kind of is. He's been really quiet lately, and Nick's always so loud and funny. He barely even talked at the party." No one else, not even Blaine, had thought for a _moment_ that Nick had been acting odd; but to Jeff, he was completely out of character. But, like always, best friends know different traits about each other's character that no one else could ever hope to know.

Kurt made a humming noise in thought. "You have to be relatable. That, or just confront him. I'm retracting my previous statement, because maybe a confrontation is the best thing for your relatio- that is, Nick's well-being." The countertenor looked to Blaine for help.

"He'll hate me." The blonde's voice was so sure that Blaine couldn't help but believe him.

"Listen, Jeff, you're going to have to try," Blaine said gently, "If you're so worried about him, then you have to be able to talk to him about these kinds of things. I know it's hard, but if you think that something's wrong with Nick, then you _have_ to find out before something bad happens to him. I'm not trying to scare you or anything, but-" Before the lead Warbler could get out anymore of his speech, the line went dead once more. "Why do they always hang up when I'm talking?"

Kurt patted his boyfriend's shoulder gently.

Elsewhere, in Westerville, Jeff was furiously running through his contacts. He didn't really understand why, because Nick was first on his speed dial. The phone rang twice, as it usually did, and Nick would always pick up. But it rang a third time, then a fourth.

"Hi, this is Nick Duval. I don't seem to be here at the moment, so I'd recommend calling Jeff. He'll know where I am. Feel free to leave a message, anyway."

The blonde dialed again. And again. After four more tries and the same answer still, the blonde ran a hand through his hair. Nick wasn't answering his phone, and Jeff didn't know where he was. That never happened; it had never happened. It _shouldn't_ have happened.

And now, Jeff felt his heart beating in his chest, and it was _not_ because of the ironic lyrics to a song.

**A.N.: Sucky ending! Ugh, I hope to bring everyone back to Dalton in the next chapter, and I obviously wasn't able to update yesterday. My bad. On the upside, I did acquire my first Hummel doll. The wonderful German creation is depicting a young brunette with a canary sitting on his foot. The statue is entitled "Singing Lesson". I got it for a great deal (thank you, Ohio antique stores), and I have aptly named my boy and his canary "Kurt and Pavarotti". I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope that you all look forward to the next!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N.: Okay, I'm not even waiting for more reviews because I just wanted to get this chapter up and out of the way! And, as long as I know that some people enjoy this story, that's enough for me! I don't own GLEE, and I probably never will!**

Over the weekend, the roads to Dalton Academy were salted and cleared, and school was back in session without even missing a day. Most students groaned, others cursed because of tests due on Mondays, but Jeff couldn't be more thankful. He hadn't been able to talk to Nick on Sunday (because Nick was probably at church), and he hadn't been able to show up to his dorm again. Jeff could only hope that his friend would once again be rooming with him once the day was over.

It was hard to single out one student from a school so large as Dalton, but it was quite easy when Jeff noticed the large swarm of boys surrounding a single person. Curiously, the crowd was made mostly of Warblers. The blonde made his way through the group and couldn't keep the dumb smile from sliding across his face. Now he was just trying to figure out how to get past everyone and to his friend. Such a short way, but with all those students, it seemed a bit daunting, almost.

Putting aside the pale face and slightly unkempt hair, Nick Duval was alive and laughing with the boys. On instinct, he looked up and smiled to his best friend. "Hey," Nick greeted, making his way past the swarm and falling into stride with Jeff.

"Hey. How was your weekend?" Jeff responded, switching his bag to his left arm so that he didn't hit Nick with his backpack.

"After you and Kurt _and_ Blaine called," the brunette laughed, emphasizing how many people had called him on Saturday, "I got some major sleep. On Sunday, we really didn't do a whole lot because Dad didn't feel like going to church. I'm kinda glad."

Jeff met eyes with his friend, grinning for no apparent reason. "You look like crap," he said truthfully, watching as Nick hits him in the shoulder; the brunette made an appalled sort of noise like a woman from an old romance movie would. "You're not still sick, are you?"

In retrospect, he didn't actually expect Nick to confirm his suspicions, so he really didn't expect a whole lot. He just didn't expect his friend to shake his head like Jeff had asked a completely absurd question; it was as if the answer was obvious. "I wouldn't be at school if I was sick, now would I?" Nick asked. And it was a valid case, Jeff couldn't deny that.

But he wasn't so sure if it _was_ the case. "You know that Wes is gonna give you the day off from Warbler practice if you need it," the blonde said; he wanted Nick to know that he wasn't obligated to sing or dance around or exhaust himself even further.

Nick only laughed. "I know. But I'm not getting behind; we all know when you miss just _one_ day of practice. Wes never lets you catch up!" It was true; one would miss a day of school and come back the next, looking like a complete idiot during practice. Wesley Montgomery took no prisoners, not even if one was sick (maybe if one was on a death bed - the point was still being argued).

The blonde only allowed himself an ironic chuckle (he supposed that there was no other way to put his feelings). "I just don't what you getting sick again. You seriously scared me!" Jeff tried to keep his voice low, but it was rather hard when he was trying to prove a point. It was extremely hard to scare him, as Dalton's Movie Night always seemed to show - he was the only one who could watch three horror movies in a row without even burying his face in a pillow once.

"I guess I should be impressed with myself." The brunette turned his head to the side to greet a few freshmen that had undoubtedly heard what had happened; that was when Jeff noticed a discontinuity in Nick's usually perfect skin.

"Are you wearing make-up?" Jeff asked, perhaps a bit too loudly for his own liking and _especially_ too loudly for Nick's. But the way that his best friend was shushing him only verified his suspicions.

Nick was wearing cover-up. And now the question stood as to _why_ Nick was wearing cover-up. Jeff attempted to reach over and find out for himself but found his hand being forcefully slapped away by Nick, who looked quite displeased. "Seriously? I am a teenager; I have facial issues." The brunette smiled gently and looked up at his friend, catching a head start up the steps; Jeff followed after his friend and grabbed Nick's hand, eyes still firm with, as Kurt liked to call it, confrontation.

"What's the matter?" Nick asked, huffing. "It's not like you've _never_ worn eyeliner before."

"It was a bet!" the blonde shot back, now embarrassed; he was so embarrassed, in fact, that he forgot what the two were talking about in the first place. Nick caught on to this and slipped his hand out of Jeff's, greeting David and Wes, who were wide-eyed over something.

No one could believe that Blaine Anderson, the lead Warbler who seemed to flirt all the time yet could never settle down with a boyfriend, was holding hands with Kurt Hummel, the beautiful brunette who never truly seemed to be happy. The two were practically _waltzing_ down the hallway, Blaine making some corny joke about something (his jokes were never truly funny), and Kurt laughing at them like they _were_ the best jokes ever made. Now, it was quite certain what David and Wes were goggling over.

Nick smiled and elbowed Jeff in the rib; the blonde couldn't help but smirk lightly. For once (and they had all known Blaine for a while), Blaine seemed content with walking in public with his boyfriend. And, it was a sure fact that 'Klaine' was about the cutest couple known to man. Even if Kurt _was_ taller.

"So are you finally going public?" Nick (who had been oblivious to Mr. Hummel discovering the existence of the couple due to hospitalization), asked with a knowing smile. Despite his naive appearance, the brunette could tell a true couple a mile a way. And he and Jeff were _definitely not_ a couple, even if he had been asked more than a million times before.

Blaine was the first to answer. "Yeah. We are." Kurt was chattering to Jeff about nothing in particular and didn't notice his boyfriend look at him with those hazel eyes that seemed oblivious to nearly everything; but for once, Nick realized, Blaine saw everything. About Kurt, that was.

"Well, congratulations. And, I'd advise you not to make him upset because his dad is _really_ scary!" Nick stressed; even after one meeting with Burt Hummel, Nick knew well enough not to mess with him. Or his family, for that matter.

"Yeah, I've kinda got all this established with Mr. Hummel on Saturday. While we were shoveling snow." The lead Warbler seemed slightly bitter that Burt had asked him to help clear the driveway and adjacent sidewalk; then again, he _was_ Kurt's boyfriend. Which meant that, if Blaine was hoping for anything long-term of serious, he'd have to learn how the Hummels roll. And that was apparently with hard work and manual labor. Something that neither Blaine nor Nick were very used to, coming from privileged families.

"That sounds exciting. We have a Chemistry test, don't we?" The way Blaine's eyes flickered in anticipation alerted Nick to the fact that they _did_ have a Chemistry test; the brunette cursed under his breath, gaining Jeff's attention.

"Nicholas Duval! I'm surprised at you!" the blonde said in a mock tone that was supposed to mirror disappointment. And, while it seemed a joke to Kurt and Blaine, Nick was sure that Jeff was just keeping the tension off the situation until the two were alone and could talk in private. Jeff was not one to include others into arguments that he might have with others.

"I can't help that I hate Chemistry," Nick retorted. He tried to keep his voice in an equally fake tone but found it rather hard, now that he _knew_ that Jeff wouldn't let the matter drop.

The bell rang then, and Blaine curled his hand once more into Kurt's, who only blushed in response. "We'll see you at lunch," the lead Warbler said, turning his boyfriend into the direction of their first class (_Kurt's_ first class, but Blaine just wanted to walk him there). And, as much as Nick wanted to avoid Jeff and leave the conversation on a stale note, the two shared their first class together. They shared _every_ class together.

"Shall we go?" Jeff asked, beginning to walk towards the adjoining hallway and into the Geometry classroom; Nick nodded in response and followed him, choosing the seat farthest away from Jeff. Unfortunately, that led him to sit by some weird boy that _always_ tried talking to Nick (Jeff claimed that he liked Nick, but he refused to entertain that scary thought).

"Good morning," Nick said softly, pulling out his Geometry book. Loose papers were sticking out in different directions, drawings of odd triangles and angles scattered in a disorderly fashion among the papers. If one wasn't Nick, one wouldn't be able to decipher the notes. If one _was_ Nick, it was simple.

The strange kid, Christopher, smiled. "I heard you got sick over the weekend. Are you feeling any better?"

In response, Nick picked up his bag and Geometry book from the desk and took the seat beside Jeff; he was _so done_ with that question. Jeff only made a tutting noise with his tongue and returned to finish some last-minute homework, leaving Nick to run a hand through his unruly hair in frustration.

"I'd rather be interrogated by you than spend another minute with him." Jeff took this as a compliment and smiled lightly, placing a flourish on the end of his angle.

"I'm flattered, good sir."

Geometry class went off without a hitch, save for the fact that Nick nearly fell asleep while trying to listen to the teacher drone on about quadrilaterals (or something of the sort). The next three classes were simple and needed no effort, but the Chemistry test during fifth period was quite a problem.

Finally, after Nick had long since given up on obtaining the answer to a certain problem, the bell rang, and he fell back in step with Jeff while on the way to the lunch room. The two (who coordinated their lunches so that they could trade with the other), sat down at the Warblers' designated table. It didn't have a set position, but Wes promised a prompt gavel to the head of any student (who was not a Warbler), that might attempt and sit down at their table. It hadn't been touched in four months.

Jeff pulled out a peanut butter sandwich and looked to Nick, who then pulled out a jelly sandwich. Out of tradition, each took off a slice of bread from their meals and gave it to the other, easily making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The blonde tossed an apple to Nick and was thanked with a large orange. After throwing a box of grape juice to his best friend, Nick responded with giving apple juice to Jeff.

They didn't notice Wes roll his eyes behind them. "I'll never understand why you two just don't bring the lunch that you guys want? You're wasting time!" He, of course, did not understand the tradition that had been started in the fourth grade, once Nick kept complaining about having too much peanut butter on his sandwiches, while Jeff griped about the overbearing amount of jelly.

"It's hard to break a habit," Nick said simply, tearing the crust off his sandwich.

David, who was behind Nick, gave a chuckle and sat across from the pair. "You guys are worse than 'Klaine' over there." He motioned towards Blaine and Kurt, who were still laughing with each other; they looked as if they hadn't left the other for even a moment.

"That Chemistry test was wonderful, wasn't it?" Blaine asked, pulling away from Kurt to sit down beside David; Kurt sat across from him, giggling once again about something that made no sense (one might think that Blaine was high, or perhaps Kurt was drunk). "I mean, I don't think there's ever been a test so easy! Thanks for tutoring me." Blaine shot a look to his boyfriend, who blushed in slight embarrassment.

"I had already taken Chemistry, and I bet yours is a _lot_ harder than mine was."

David began to laugh about some joke that he had thought of in his mind, then decided to expand upon it. "So, was this 'studying' similar to you guys practicing your duet together? Or was this more in depth?" Wes was the only one who chuckled at the joke.

The excited face that Kurt had previously been wearing vanished in an instant. "Oh, grow up. I don't suppose you've never had a study session with Wes?" His blue eyes were so innocent that it was impossible to tell whether or not he was up to something; Nick had a sinking feeling that he was.

"We have girlfriends!" David shot back, eyes wide. Kurt only smiled.

"Correction, Blaine said that _you_ have a girlfriend. He never said anything about Wes, and on a similar note, your Facebook status is set to "Single", and it _was_ "In A Relationship" about two weeks ago. That was when you were studying for a, correct me if I'm wrong, history test with Wes?"

David said nothing in return, only glared at Kurt Hummel, silently hoping that he might vanish into thin air; no such thing happened.

This time, Blaine was the one to laugh. "I didn't tell him - He figured it out on his own!" The lead Warbler tried to keep his eyes from Wes, who was most likely giving him a horribly scary stare. Upon looking over, his suspicions were confirmed.

When the rest of the Warblers filed in, the table fell silent once more (except for Kurt and Blaine looking at each other for a few moments before breaking out into wonderfully cheesy smiles). Wes' blush had faded long ago, and David refused to say anything. The only ones who were speaking were Thad and Trent; Trent was complaining about not having a snow day, and Thad was listening with a half-hearted interest.

Nick wasn't quite sure what Jeff was thinking; he knew that the blonde was mad at him, but he couldn't think about the matter. The once wonderful sandwich was beginning to cause a bitter taste in his mouth, and the apple juice was a tad too sour for his liking. To be honest, he felt horribly sick altogether. The brunette stood up and excused himself to the restroom, quite intent on just sitting there until the next bell. It wasn't until he was halfway there that Nick realized that he might have ulterior opinions (unconscious or not), as to why the food tasted so horrible.

After the short Warbler left, Jeff looked up with a concerned face. "Kurt, your plan's not working! And he's wearing cover-up!"

The countertenor shrugged, handing Blaine a fruit snack. "I wear cover-up, too." Blaine made a snorting sound and bit into the fruit snack.

"You do not. Your skin is perfect." To this, David made a gagging noise; he seemed to forget that Kurt had just ratted him and Wes' relationship out and was testing his luck.

Jeff sighed heavily; no one was getting the point. "He had perfect skin, too! I've known Nick for a really long time, and I don't think he's gotten a pimple _once_! I'm really worried about him, but he's been joking a lot more today. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

When it came to relationships, Jeff was completely oblivious to them, almost to Blaine's extent. The blonde looked hopefully at Kurt, who took a long sip of his bottle of water in deep thought. "Well, why don't you go try talking to him now? You still have twenty minutes." The countertenor handed his boyfriend another fruit snack, as Blaine seemed to genuinely enjoy them. "You don't get these a lot, do you?"

"No, but I'm going to start. These things are amazing!" Blaine answered, putting his head down in embarrassment once Kurt just threw the rest of the pack at him. "You don't have to-"

Sometimes, Kurt Hummel really was an angel in human clothing. He always seemed to know exactly what was going on in a relationship and how to fix it; he was kind of like Cupid, adorable face and all. Jeff also excused himself from the lunch table and practically _ran_ in the direction of the restroom. He had never put much value into the thought that it took a swift kick to get someone to realize what one really wanted, but now he was quite certain of the myth.

He opened the bathroom and found Nick, who looked even paler. The brunette looked up with a face that might put a frightened doe to shame. "You scared me," he said gently, checking his reflection in the mirror. "Are you already done with lunch?"

"I came to find you," the blonde answered, relieving some of the space between the two. Nick smiled lightly. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"I thought I was gonna throw up, but I didn't," Nick responded truthfully. "I do look like crap, don't I?" Something, and Jeff wasn't quite sure what, had changed in the matter of six minutes. Nick wasn't denying anything any longer, only saying what he truly thought.

Jeff laughed. "Yeah, you do. Come on, let me see your forehead." Upon placing a slightly shaking hand to the brunette's forehead, Jeff wasn't surprised to find that it was quite warm but not burning. "I think you have a bit of a fever." Without saying another word, he grabbed a paper towel and wet it, placing the sopping towel on Nick's forehead; then, without making another movement, he slowly turned the direction downwards and towards Nick's cheek. Once the concealer had been washed away, a purple bruise remained.

Nick made no attempt to stop Jeff, only took in a sharp breath at the sudden pain. He said nothing when Jeff's brow furrowed in confusion, did nothing when the blonde inhaled deeply. They were both trying to keep their calm, some succeeding more than others.

"What happened?" Jeff asked plainly, throwing the paper towel away. "And don't tell me you ran into a door because I know you didn't."

Nick closed his eyes for a moment; he wasn't quite sure what to say (or even if he should say anything at all). "My face made contact with something." He wasn't joking, because he _was_ quite serious; he had been hit, and a hit always makes contact.

"I should say. But what else?" Jeff had never been one for prodding, but he knew that there was something more to the bruise than just smacking a face against a door; though a smack may have been involved, actually.

The brunette sighed, sitting on the edge of the counter; they could both tell that this conversation might last more than a few seconds. "I got into an argument, but this isn't anything serious. It's never happened before." Nick's voice was mystified, as if he was surprised that he had a bruise on his face as well.

"Yeah?" Maybe Kurt's first advice _was_ the best advice; Jeff couldn't, after all, force Nick to say anything that he didn't want to.

"I just- I should've been more careful. I don't know why he was so mad, but I-"

"He?"

Nick took another sharp breath. He knew that Jeff knew too much and would _never_ let the case rest if he didn't come clean then. "My dad. You saw him."

Jeff made a sympathetic sort of sound. "Nick, if I had know, I wouldn't have let you go. I-"

This time, they were both stumbling over their words, each not quite sure what to say to the other. Nick, for once, was the first to respond by placing a hand on Jeff's cheek. "I asked Trent what you said when the ambulance was about to come. You said you loved me."

"I thought we were talking about-"

"It doesn't matter. I'm fine, but we're not. Listen, I don't want to do _this_ anymore. I'm kind of tired of just waiting for something to happen. Something _did_ happen, and we almost never got to talk again. I don't want to wait." The brunette felt bolder than before. Somehow, after his secret had gotten out, a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Jeff put his head down for a moment. "I'm not going to lose you," he said firmly, catching Nick by surprise. "Not by your dad, not by my stupidity, and not by a _walnut_! You mean too much to me, and I was a complete idiot for not seeing it before! I want to protect you, and if that means having to fight really hard for a really long time, I will!" The blonde closed what little space there was between the two. "I love you."

"You already said that."

"And I'm going to a _lot_ more."

Jeff leaned in to kiss Nick, and for a moment, nothing else really mattered. The brunette leaned forward into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Jeff's shoulders. Nothing bothered them, not even the bell.

Until, of course, Jeff cupped Nick's cheek, earning a smack on his own.

"Ouch!" Jeff exclaimed, feeling quite accomplished, even as Nick was rubbing his own cheek. The two stared at each other for a few moments before each bursting out into a wonderful sort of laughter.

"We should get to class," Nick said gently.

And Jeff, feeling quite cocky, responded with, "I thought we already were." Oh, yes, Kurt was going to most certainly kill him.

**A.N.: The next chapter will be the last, and I have had a ton of fun writing this! I got wonderful feedback for my first attempt at mixing Klaine and Niff, so I feel quite accomplished! I think the ending is spectacularly cavity-inducing, but I had to do it! Also, Kurt and Blaine are the newlyweds. They're so cute, aren't they? I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!**


	9. Epilogue

**A.N.: Last chapter! And no, I cannot be convinced to continue this story, but I might consider a sequel and/or writing a Niff (or Klaine), fanfiction in the same universe as this story. I guess in the story summary it'd say "ADKOC". But, I've had a _ton_ of fun writing this story, so I hope that everyone else enjoyed it as much as I did! I don't own GLEE, naturally!**

Less than a week ago, Kurt Hummel wasn't even quite sure where he truly belonged in the universe. Today, he knew _exactly_ where he was meant to be. For now, he was a Dalton Academy Warbler and (hopefully forever), Blaine Anderson's boyfriend. The two were practically inseparable after being together for only a week and a half. Wes called it the "honeymoon period", but Trent had dreamily called it "true love".

It was an obvious choice as to whom Kurt wanted to believe. But he did suppose that there _was_ truth to the skeptical Asian's snide remark; he did, after all, know much more about relationships than Kurt could ever hope to.

Perhaps there might come a day, the day when "Klaine" breaks apart and never truly comes back together. Destinies change, Kurt realized earlier that year. He had been certain for so long that he would be a McKinley Titan his entire high school life, that he would be part of that wonderful Glee Club that he still thought of as a blended family. Suppose Blaine and Kurt _did_ break up, he was stronger now; they both were.

Kurt wasn't the type to take anything lying down anymore. He wouldn't let anyone, not even the gorgeous Blaine Anderson, quench his fabulous take on life. And if it meant that they might not spend eternity forever (as he had intentionally planned), so be it.

He wasn't spiritual, not in the least bit. Kurt didn't put much value into the belief that there was something beyond an earthly life; and he probably wouldn't admit it, even if he did. But after the outrageous weekend, believing in something beyond one's own comprehension was actually quite comforting. Especially concerning death.

Because, he figured, there was no way that there was nothing else for Nick Duval. Not when Kurt noticed the newest Warbler couple walking through the hallways. It was nice to see Jeff put a protective arm around his new boyfriend, and Nick would only incline himself further into the grip. And, despite what had happened earlier that day (or weekend, for that matter), the two seemed as if nothing in the world could ever bother them. The blonde said something witty, and the brunette could only laugh in response.

It was a couple thing. No matter the joke, stupid or not, it was the other's job to laugh.

Kurt still wasn't sure _what_ his purpose was; he knew that he wanted to be a performer on Broadway (with Rachel, preferably), sure, but what about after that, when his prime had hit and left. He tried to imagine that Blaine would still be there, dark, curly hair and all.

As if on cue, Blaine came over and placed his hand in his boyfriend's, greeting Kurt with a kiss on the nose; he knew how much it annoyed Kurt (that only made it more fun). His attention long gone to something else, Kurt replied with a playful smack to the cheek. The two followed behind Nick and Jeff, heading towards the Warbler's Common Room.

No one wanted to practice; most just wanted a good, old-fashioned snowball fight. But Wes, the ultimate mood killer, demanded a steady practice. The group took a hesitant glance to Nick, who stood up and looked ready to practice.

But then Nick decided to change his mind and sat back down, saying that he'd much rather sit down and relax, as he was pretty exhausted; Jeff couldn't even pretend to keep the smile from sliding across his face.

And, once again, Kurt Hummel's advice proved most useful, as it always seemed to. Then, a stray thought caught the countertenor's attention. Perhaps he was at Dalton, not only to avoid bullying, but maybe to get some couples together. He had, after all, outed David and Wes' relationship, though that really didn't count as too much. Then again, he coaxed Jeff into pursuing after Nick, but any idiot with _half_ a mind would've done the same thing (some people were just _meant_ to be together, after all).

Kurt did have to admit, though, there was no way that he and Blaine could've gotten together if he hadn't transferred to Dalton. The countertenor looked over at his boyfriend, who was arguing the case of an igloo building contest, as opposed to a boring practice; they were out one Warbler, after all.

The strict council member took a heavy sigh and looked to David and Thad for support. The other two looked between each other and broke out into grins. Practice was soon canceled, and the boys began bundling up in their coats and hats and gloves and boots and scarves (Kurt adjusted Blaine's, because he just couldn't get it right sometimes, and one can't have a boyfriend with a frozen neck).

Nick still stuck to his word about feeling ill and pulled on his winter jacket, claiming that he was only going to watch on the steps; Jeff offered to say with him but was soon brushed off. Everyone knew how much Jeff loved the snow, and Nick certainly wasn't about to let his boyfriend give up wonderful building snow for something as trivial as spending time together, merely watching everyone else have so much fun. Kurt, on the other hand, wasn't too keen on snow and pushed Blaine towards the group.

Sitting down beside Nick, Kurt offered a small smile. "So you two are finally together?" the countertenor asked, knowing fully well what the answer would be; he still wanted to hear it, though.

Nick only responded with a sly sort of smirk. "So, you and Blaine look like an old married couple," he noted jokingly, motioning towards the other party; Blaine and Jeff were both talking in secret, each occasionally stealing glances at their respective boyfriends.

The countertenor sighed heavily. "Sometimes, you have to wonder what those two are talking about. Hey, you wanna see some of the texts that New Directions sent me concerning mine and Blaine's relationship?" Nick nodded his head in answer, laughing as Kurt pulled out his cell phone.

The first text was from someone named Mercedes, who said in all seriousness that, should Blaine hurt her boo, she would have to come to that fancy-pants school and knock that curly-headed hobbit a new one; the next was from a girl named Rachel - she said (in perfect spelling and capitalization, quite unlike a normal text message), that she was quite happy for Blaine and Kurt's relationship but would stop at nothing to keep Blaine from ruining Kurt's chances at a wonderful college, should he get in the way.

The strangest one was from Santana, who only said "wanky"; or maybe it was Brittany, a girl that apparently believed that it was dolphin mating season (or something of the sort).

Eventually, the texts appeared to be from males, one from a certain Puck (Nick could only wonder who would name their child that), that said that he was glad that his boy could have something as cool as him. Then one from Finn (of whom Nick was now familiar with), who only gave a text of conjoined phrases and was quite illegible, in reality.

"Does this tell you anything about New Directions?" Kurt asked, chuckling over Finn's message because he apparently understood them. Nick nodded, frowning as he still tried to understand it; he eventually gave up.

The two teens watched their boyfriends attempt (and attempt they did), to build an igloo, but it just seemed to be caving in at the top. Finally, Nick got frustrated and marched over to the two, instructing the wide-eyed boys how to properly make a sturdy igloo. It did manage to succeed before Trent accidentally knocked it over.

And, in this odd sort of family (much more normal than New Directions, because that's where Kurt's heart would always belong), Kurt could only smile to himself. He belonged, if only for a while; but for that while, he thought that he began to feel something like a contented sort of view on life. Sure, they lost Regionals (but as Blaine said, and he really should start listening to Blaine), Kurt _had_ won something much more valuable.

He wasn't quite sure what it was, but he had most certainly won it.

**A.N.: The ending wasn't quite what I had expected, but it turned out all right. Like I said, I'm probably going to continue working in this realm of storyline, because I enjoyed the view it made. If anyone wants, I could take requests for random Drabbles. I'd prefer them be one-shots, but chapter stories are okay! I hope you all enjoyed the obnoxious Klaine and Niff that I presented!**


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